JUST BEHIND THE FRONT 
IN FRANCE 

Sy NOBLE FOSTER HOGGS ON 




(/h ^ 




Class JTUo^iil 
Book hf S-R 






2-EMPRUNT 



LA OEFtn^t NATIONALE 




RjuR LA France 

VERSEZ VOTRE OR 




COr Combat FourLaMctoire 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT 
IN FRANCE 



\ 




A GARDEN SHELL-HOLE 



T^HE placid surface of this artificial lake con- 
ceals the wound torn in an Alsatian garden by 
a shrieking German shell which fell short of its 
intended mark. But this section of Alsace is 
French once more, and the quaint, walled-in 
gardens will blossom on French soil, and in time 
the scars of Prussian shells will be obliterated 
by the growth of luxuriant vines. 



JUST 
BEHIND THE FRONT 

IN FRANCE 



'By 

NOBLE FOSTER HOGGSON 

'Jitember of the 
American Industrial Commission to France 




NEW YORK 

JOHN LANE COMPANY 

MCMX VIII 



COPYRIGHT I918 BY NOBLE FOSTER HOGGSON 



APR 23 1918 

PRESS OF REDFIELD-KENDRICK-ODELL CO., NEW YORK 



©CLA494706 



/vm:? 



TO 

LAURENCE BENET 



PREFACE 

GAN you picture a traveler returning home 
after a long absence ? At every home-near- 
ing hour he recalls the home scenes as he 
last saw them, and thinks of the dear ones that he 
left. His mind tells him that he must be prepared 
for great changes, but his heart refuses to listen. 

The France that I had left five years ago was 
full of youth, of joy, of contentment, a land of 
sun-kissed hills, of velvety meadows and of purple 
vineyards, a land filled with the songs and laughter 
of children and the smiles of gentle women. 

On my return I found her sadly changed. She 
had suddenly aged. The joy and contentment 
were gone, and in their place were intense suffer- 
ing and profound sorrow. 

The fiery ordeal through which she had passed 
had left its ugly scars but it had also tempered 
her and made her finer and stronger. Where 
she had lost materially she had gained spiritually. 
She stands to-day erect and proud, confident and 
determined, her face illumined by the glory of a 
great faith that in the ultimate outcome of the 
tremendous struggle hers will be the victory. 

ix 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

It was my rare privilege to be a member of the 
American Industrial Commission which, in the 
fall of 1 91 6, visited France to study the existing 
industrial conditions of that country, and to learn 
how the United States might best help to heal 
some of the deep, exhausting wounds of the war. 

We were received as brothers, with open arms 
and open hearts. All doors were opened to us that 
we might enter and see how France was living up 
to her ideals. Everywhere was the evidence of a 
splendidly united and organized nation; a nation 
of calm, resourceful, efficient, untiring, resolute 
people. We were amazed by the fortitude of both 
the men and women throughout the country. The 
women in all vocations, by their loyalty and zeal, 
were making it possible, perhaps as much as were 
the men through their strength and their heroism, 
for France to take her invincible stand against an 
overwhelming and better prepared enemy. 

It has been said that "the hour always makes 
the man." This war has made the women of 
France. Their development has been a wonder- 
ful revelation of the vast latent reserve power of 
the nation. While the war has not created this 
power, it has roused it and revealed to the world 
its silent potency. 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

The greatest tragedy ever set upon the world's 
stage is now being enacted. The testimony of 
every eye-witness containing an accurate descrip- 
tion of even a small detail is, as it were, a little 
side-light that helps to illumine the whole scene. 
It is with this thought that I have ventured to set 
down my impressions gained at close range — 
not a story of the war, but rather of the brooding 
spirit of the war — a description of the condition 
and atmosphere of the country and the effect of 
the war upon the people **Just Behind the Front 
in France." 



XI 



Chapter I 
Chapter II 

Chapter III 
Chapter IV 

Chapter V 

Chapter VI 

Chapter VII 
Chapter VIII 
Chapter IX 

Chapter X 



CONTENTS 

Within the War Zone ... 19 

Along the Road from Belfort 

toThann 35 

A Visit into Alsace .... 47 

The Battlefield of Col de la 

Chipotte 57 

The Battle of the Bridge, 

and Sister Julie .... 69 

Nancy, the Home of Prefect 

Mirman 91 

Chalons and Its War Cemetery 11 1 

On the Road to Rheims . . 129 

Rheims and Its Desecrated 

Cathedral 139 

In the Trenches 161 

xiii 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

A Garden Shell-hole 4 / 

Cave-dwellers 21 

The Lion of Belfort 27/ 

The Road to the Front 33 / 

The Journey Back from "No Man's Land" 39^ 

"This IsThann" 45/ 

Church of Saint Thiebald 491/ 

In Lovely Alsace 53 v 

A Trio of Rude Crosses 6iy 

Last Resting-place for the Brave 65^ 

"Homeless" 71/ 

Doubly Unfortunate Gerbevillier .... 75 y 

An Alert Machine-gun Crew 79^, 

The Magnieres Cathedral Still Stands . . . 85/ 

A Temporary Bridge Across the Meuse . . 89 

Regards to the Boche 93 

The Old Tower 99^ 

XV 



ILLUSTRATIONS — Conan«^</ 

PAGE 

A Commemorative Religious Procession . . 103 

"Empty Husks" 107 

Revigny — A Picture of Devastation . . . 113 

Making Ready for Action 117. 

"In the Democracy of the Dead" .... 121 

A War-time Cemetery 125 

After the Enemy Had Passed 131 

A Town Crier 135 

A Cathedral that Escaped Destruction . . 141 

Rheims in Ruins 145 

The Maimed Cathedral of Rheims . . . 151 

A Battle-scarred Church in Alsace . . . 155 

Democracy of the Trenches 159 

The Eyes of the French 75's 163 

"No Man's Land" that Was 169 



XVI 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT 
IN FRANCE 




vo 

M 
OS 



CHAPTER I 
Within the War Zone 

'/^^ ENTLEMEN/' remarked our president, 
^Tf as we sat one morning sipping our coffee 
in the cheerless cafe of the Hotel de TEu- 
rope in Besangon, *'we have to-day finished the 
program planned for 'The American Industrial 
Commission to France/ 

"Since our arrival in Bordeaux four weeks ago, 
we have visited most of the principal cities and 
towns outside of the invaded districts, and have 
gathered the necessary material for our report. 

"We are now on the threshold of the war zone, 
and through the courtesy of the French military 
authorities, the commissioners are invited to make 
a six days* visit along the battle-front, from Bel- 
fort to Rheims. 

"Some danger in such a trip must be admitted, 
and I feel it necessary to request that each mem- 
ber of the Commission shall assume the responsi- 
bility for his own safety if he accepts the invitation." 

A discussion resulted. Arguments arose as to 
the ease with which the deadly gas travels at 

[19I 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

times ten and even fifteen miles back of the 
trenches. Some spoke of the target which six 
army automobiles traveling together would pre- 
sent for the bombs of the German airmen, while 
others mentioned that our itinerary as planned 
would take us uncomfortably close to the enemy's 
lines, where we would be part of the time in danger 
from shells and aero bombs. 

However, the consuming desire to see this great 
world war at closer range naturally prevailed. 
The Commissioners, keenly expectant, voted 
unanimously to go to the ** front." As it proved, 
an almost continuously overcast sky eliminated 
most of the possible danger. 



In a cold, driving rain, and filled with the mem- 
ories of our long, interesting ride from Besangon,we 
rolled through the clean, washed streets of Belfort 
and stopped at Le Grand Hotel, the entrance of 
which was badly scarred and many of the windows 
broken by shrapnel. The upper story was dam- 
aged by bombs. 

With a thrill I realized that I was at last in the 
war zone, that I had crossed the threshold from 
a land of peace and quiet into a turmoil of war, 

[20l 




CAVE-DWELLERS 



HTHERE are hundreds of underground homes in 
French villages within range of gun-fire. But 
the spirits of these actual cave-dwellers are not 
to be daunted, and the German shells, which have 
driven these good, merry, optimistic people 
below the surface of the earth, cannot wholly 
quench their cheerfulness, which is evidenced 
by the festal flowers in this war-scourged family's 
cellar home. 



WITHIN THE WAR ZONE 



death and destruction. Soon I would see for 
myself what this greatest of all struggles meant; 
would have gHmpses of the brave fighting men of 
France; would see the trenches, and, still more in- 
teresting, the elaborate machinery with which this 
dauntless nation was keeping and caring for her 
vast army at the front. 

In my interesting trip through different sections 
of France, I had seen thousands of French troops, 
innumerable German prisoners, hospitals filled 
with wounded, and had visited many of the impor- 
tant ammunition plants. But it was only on 
reaching Belfort, sixteen miles from the front, that 
I actually realized the proximity of the Great War. 
Commanding as it does the passage between 
the Vosges and the Jura, Belfort, a town of about 
thirty thousand inhabitants, and a fortress of the 
first class, occupies a most important strategic 
position. It is situated among the wooded hills 
on the Savoureuse River, at the intersection of the 
railway lines from Lyons to Mulhouse and Stras- 
bourg. Since the beginning of the war Belfort has 
continued to suffer from the shells of the big Ger- 
man howitzers — guns such as were used against 
Verdun — and from bombs dropped by airmen. 
In our walk about the town, we found great 

[23] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

numbers of buildings severely damaged and many 
completely destroyed. All but a few of the shops 
were closed, the heavy iron shutters down and the 
shopkeepers gone to a more congenial climate in 
the south of France where business is still possible. 

The railway depot was being used as a sort of 
business exchange. It was here that the mer- 
chants met and transacted business with repre- 
sentatives of concerns from oustide the war zone. 

The negotiations concluded, the representatives 
departed by the route they came. No one was 
allowed in the city without complete military and 
identification papers. 

In the streets were evidences only of war. 
Infantry, artillery and cavalry with full equip- 
ment marched by in the drenching rain. Supply 
trains, post trains and ambulances moved in an 
ever-flowing stream towards the front. 

On the walls of many of the buildings were pasted 
printed notices to the effect that, in case of bom- 
bardment, there would be found accommodations 
in the caves or cellars under the houses for a lim- 
ited number of persons. It seemed to me that I 
had found a city of troglodytes when I learned 
that ninety per cent, of the present population 
were still living in the cellars to which they had 

[24] 



WITHIN THE WAR ZONE 

descended for safety at the beginning of the 
war. 

Well might the people of Belfort fear the Ger- 
man shells, for they were well aware that the Huns 
had, but a few miles away, two 420-mm. guns 
(about 16 inches) ranged exactly on the city and 
that it was possible with these to reduce Belfort 
to ruins in a few days. 

While two months had passed since the last 
big German shell fell in the city, bombs had been 
dropped at very frequent intervals, and when I 
witnessed the havoc caused by these instruments 
of death and destruction I understood the willing- 
ness with which the poor inhabitants still adhered 
to their none too comfortable quarters below 
ground. 

Above the city, as though to guard it from all 
harm, crouches the great *'Lion of Belfort," 
chiseled out of the face of the clifF upon which 
stands the Citadel. "How splendidly it repre- 
sents the courage and spirit of these indomitable 
people," remarked my companion as we returned 
from our walk. "When Bartholdi finished his 
great carving in commemoration of the noble 
defence made by the French troops in the Franco- 
Prussian War, he little thought that in less than 

[25] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

fifty years the Lion would be a silent witness to 
another successful resistance by the valiant sons 
of Lorraine in the greatest conflict the world has 
ever known." 

We were cramped, cold and hungry when we 
entered the hotel. Our hopes of finding hot food 
and cozy warmth within appeared vain. A cold 
snack and an "early to bed" were apparently 
scheduled for us. There was no heat, electric 
light or comfort. The iron shutters over the win- 
dows excluded the already meagre daylight, and 
the few lighted candles seemed only to accentuate 
the gloom which shrouded the place. Two ven- 
erable maids and a couple of old men, the latter 
sufficiently advanced in years for them to have 
fought in the last Prussian War, were all that 
were available to care for our party and the small 
group of French officers which arrived shortly 
after us. 

It was a dispirited group that sat in their over- 
coats in the cold and dismal hotel lobby. No 
conversation brightened the occasion; no one 
felt inclined to talk; a most dejected spirit per- 
vaded us until the doors of the dining-room sud- 
denly opened and one of the old waiters announced 
dinner. 

[26] 




THE LION OF BELFORT 



npHE triumphantly defiant "Lion of Belfort." 
■'■ chiseled from sheer walls of solid stone by 
Bartholdi, to honor the memorable defense of the 
place by the French in the Franco-Prussian War 
of 1870. The figure of the lion itself is seventy- 
eight feet long and fifty-two feet high. Above 
is the citadel overlooking the valley. Belfort is 
chiefly important because of its value ^ as a 
military strategic point, and as a position of 
defense commands a perimeter of twenty-five 
miles. Since the beginning of the war ninety per 
cent, of the population has slept in cellars. 



WITHIN THE WAR ZONE 

The vision of a cold supper immediately dis- 
appeared with the pleasant odor of well-cooked 
viands and the grateful warmth of the candle- 
lighted room. Our spirits revived and we were 
soon enjoying a simple but delicious repast of 
which we all felt in much need. A pleasing fea- 
ture of the dinner was the "Sessyll" wine which 
one of our thoughtful French friends had brought 
with him from Annecy. The wine is made in 
Sessyll, a short distance from Annecy, and is not 
shipped. It is Hght, fruity, and when aged in 
the wood for ten years compared well with old 
Madeira. 

From a small table at the other side of the room, 
I watched with keen interest the faces of the men 
who, in neat horizon-blue uniforms sat at the long 
middle table. Strong, grim faces they were. The 
strain of war had left its traces in the expression of 
the eyes and in the lines about the mouth, but a 
stern determination and the spirit of a great faith 
were apparent in each. 

We were smoking our after-dinner cigars when 
a lieutenant of the Lafayette Escadrille approach- 
ing us remarked: '*It is good to meet someone 
from my own country. I am sometimes lone- 
some here. When you return home, please give 

[29] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

my love to my father, and tell him that I was well 
and happy when you saw me in Belfort." 

The speaker was Norman Prince, an American 
in the French flying corps who had distinguished 
himself by his bravery and daring. Four days 
after we left Belfort we learned of his death in an 
air raid over the German lines. 



There was small comfort in remaining up and 
soon one after another said his "Good night" and 
started to search for his room. 

A floating wick in a glass of sweet oil gave a 
dim, uncertain light to the corridors and I needed 
my electric pocket lamp to navigate the stairs in 
safety. Inside my bedroom, a printed military 
order posted on the wall prohibited the use of a 
light unless the iron shutters were kept closed and 
the louvres in them stuff'ed with paper or other 
material. 

It was not without some misgiving that I ex- 
tinguished my candle and closed my eyes to go to 
sleep, for we had been told by one of the oflS- 
cers that the Germans were probably aware of 
the arrival of our six cars and would drop bombs 
on the city that night in the hope of breaking up 

[30] 



WITHIN THE WAR ZONE 

what they might think to be an important con- 
clave of officers. 

When I recalled the complete destruction of 
many of the buildings and the frequency with 
which the Germans either shelled or bombed the 
city, my approval and envy of the cave-dwellers 
grew to large proportions. I curled up under the 
4x4 down quilt and slipped into dreamland, re- 
assuring myself by the smallness of target which 
I presented in my uncomfortable position. 

The success of my night's sleep can, no doubt, 
be credited to the storm in which we arrived — 
the heavy, low clouds preventing the German air- 
men from discovering us. However, our pres- 
ence in Belfort must in some way have been re- 
ported, for on the following night, after we had 
departed, twenty-five bombs were dropped upon 
the city, doing serious damage. 



[31 





THE ROx^D TO THE FRONT 



r^N to the front for France and for victory! 
These heavy cannon, drawn by tractors over 
some of the best man-made roads in the world, 
make progress which would have astounded 
Napoleon, whose guard thundered its way 
toward Prussia over these very highways. The 
praises of the artificial roads of France will be 
sung by future historians — they have played a 
great role in saving the French country from 
possible annihilation. 



CHAPTER II 

Along the Road from Belfort 
TO Thann 

THE sun was shining gloriously when I arose 
the next morning, and after a breakfast of 
fruit, eggs and coffee neatly served in the 
little breakfast-room looking on the street, I 
hurried into the waiting car and, once clear of the 
city, sped through beautiful country over a splen- 
did road towards Remiremont. 

Each of our big gray automobiles with numbers 
on sides and backs carried a sergeant and a 
military chauffeur on the front seat. If one car 
had trouble, all the cars stopped and all the 
chauffeurs helped to make it right. We then 
proceeded, each car always in its assigned place 
in line and containing the same occupants. 

Many times we were stopped by sentries, and it 
developed from one of them that they all had the 
numbers of our cars and a description of each 
person. 

The roads, which have had unceasing travel and 
wear for over two years of the war, compare favor- 

[35] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

ably with those in the parks of our own country. 
The road-makers were busy in different sections, 
filling shell craters with the debris from the ruins 
of some nearby village, repairing the worn spots 
and top-dressing where necessary. Their heavy 
rollers and other machinery were in constant use, 
while they themselves smoked and worked on, 
indifferent to the incessant roar of the cannon or 
the shriek of the big shells which occasionally 
winged their way overhead. 

In most of the paintings of historic battle scenes 
by such masters as Meissonier, Detaille and De 
Neuville, the roads depicted are filled with ruts 
made by the travel of the heavy guns and are often 
shown impassable. Doubtless these illustrated 
the actual conditions that existed at the time. 
But to-day, despite the ponderous and uninter- 
rupted traffic which these roads just behind the 
front in France have sustained, they are almost 
perfect. 

I had at first sight been pleased with the new 
color of the French army uniform, although with the 
thousands of other things to occupy my attention 
I had failed to realize its full effectiveness both in 
point of concealment and appearance until the 

[36] 



ALONG THE ROAD FROM BELFORT TO THANN 

morning when, in approaching the village of 
Le Thillot, I saw a number of battalions en masse. 
The color so blended with the landscape that, until 
I had approached quite near, I failed to note the 
soldiers who were in plain view. 

The baggy red trousers, short blue jacket and 
red cap, by which we have known the French 
soldier for many years, and which were the cause 
of unnecessary casualties at the beginning of this 
war are now of memory only. The new gray- 
blue garments, tight-fitting coat, knickerbockers 
and spiral puttees make, when finished off with 
the fatigue cap of the same material and color, 
one of the snappiest of uniforms. 

While the French gray-blue, popularly termed 
"horizon blue," is a very difficult color to see 
against the horizon, it is not so good a protective 
coloring in all positions as the greenish-drab of 
the Germans. Whether on the way to the trenches 
or returning — under clear skies or in down-pouring 
rain — the French soldiers looked neat and trim, a 
showing seldom possible with the old uniform. 

Ambulance parks occupied large sections in or 
near some of the towns through which we passed 
and from these parks ambulances were con- 

[37] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

stantly hurrying on their journeys of mercy to 
and from the front. When a telephone order is 
received from the firing Hne, as many cars as 
needed are at once dispatched. 

The ambulances are driven directly to the field 
dressing stations to which the wounded have been 
carried by stretcher-bearers, but if these stations 
happen to be in too exposed positions for the 
ambulances to reach them, the wounded, after a 
hasty dressing, are removed by stretcher to a 
field hospital situated a couple of miles back of the 
front trenches; often the churches in the towns 
back of the lines are used to great advantage for 
this purpose. The next move is to the base 
hospitals, which are located in the cities and towns 
some distance away. There the serious cases, 
which will not permit of further moving, are kept 
and cared for while the rest are sent to the special 
hospitals and convalescent camps in the southern 
part of France. 

When one turned from the soldiers, the supply 
trains and ambulances, and looked upon this 
beautiful, sunny and tranquil country well back 
of the lines, it was difficult to believe that cities 
and towns were being wiped out of existence and 

[38] 




THE JOURNEY BACK FROM "NO MAN'S LAND' 



TTHE pain-racked journey back from "No 
Man's Land." Through the seemingly end- 
less maze of the rear trenches, the wounded poilu 
is being borne by the stretcher-bearers to the 
field dressing station, from whence he will be 
removed by ambulance to the hospital a few 
miles away, out of range of the shells which 
shriek overhead. 



ALONG THE ROAD FROM BELFORT TO THANN 

thousands of lives sacrificed just over the blue 
hills in the distance. 

The fields on either side of the broad, white 
road stretched away like fine, green lawns, starred 
with the blooms of innumerable crocuses. The fall 
rains and the change to the crisp, cool weather had 
turned the foliage golden, and the Vigne-Vierge 
(our Virginia creeper) hung in great crimson masses 
on walls and arbors. The crops had been garnered 
and the farms looked immaculate. Glimpsing into 
the gardens, I saw quantities of dahlias, asters 
and marigolds, sometimes a few late roses, bloom- 
ing against protecting walls. 

We soon entered Remiremont, an old thirteenth- 
century town pleasantly situated on the banks of 
the Moselle, and, while our papers were being ex- 
amined, showed our impatience to reach the front 
where we could see the first-line trenches and 
"No Man's Land." 

After a seemingly interminable time, our military 
papers were vised and a change made in our orders, 
so that we might visit the city of Thann in Alsace, 
which had been wrested from the Germans after 
forty-five years of their occupancy. 

A few miles out of the town we passed a troop 
of twenty or thirty boys and girls on the way 

[41] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

home from school. Their bright eyes, rosy cheeks 
and smiHng faces were in strong contrast to the 
faces of the men and women we had seen working 
in the fields. In the latter were shown, all too 
plainly, the deep lines of anguish and care. 
Women were guiding the plow and the cultivator, 
sometimes using a team of sleek, dove-colored 
oxen, but often a single ox hitched to the plow by 
wooden shafts fastened to a head-piece in front 
of the horns. 

In the late afternoon we passed within a short 
distance of the French lines and saw for the first 
time ugly barbed wire entanglements guarding 
well-constructed trenches. 

As we approached Bussang the sun dipped be- 
hind the hills and the moon which had been absent 
for the past week rose in full glory and poured 
its silver over the beautiful valley of the Moselle. 
We soon lost its radiance, however, as we dashed 
into the mouth of the long tunnel of Bussang 
which cuts through the mountain and joins the 
villages of Bussang in the Vosges and Oderon 
in Alsace. 

"When the Germans retreated through this 
tunnel,'' remarked Sergeant Forot from the front 
seat, "with our boys at their heels, they left a few 

[42] 



ALONG THE ROAD FROM BELFORT TO THANN 

foresters at the eastern end for the purpose of 
exploding a mine and destroying the tunnel while 
we were on our way through. Some volunteers 
of our Chasseurs Alpins spoiled their plan by 
scaling the steep mountainside and shooting the 
foresters as they stood waiting with the switch 
in their hands/' 

Emerging from the tunnel, we zigzagged down 
the mountainside at a speed that seemed to pre- 
dict certain destruction. The cars traveled about 
three hundred metres apart so that we should 
present as small a target as possible for the guns 
across the valley. 

On reaching Thann in the valley below we were 
told by one of our officers that the mouth of the 
tunnel, and in fact the entire road down which 
we had just come, was kept in perfect range by 
the German batteries. Although it was difficult 
to add one extra thrill to those we had already 
experienced in our descent of the mountain, the 
fact now disclosed caused us to recall with a tinge 
of pleasure the speed with which we had dropped 
into the valley. 



[43 




'THIS IS THANN" 



^HAFING for forty-three years under the hated 
Prussian yoke, she is French again. The little 
town of Thann is one of the most picturesque in 
all Alsace. Snuggled cozily in the protection of 
wooded hills and nestled in the smiling valley, 
Thann, scarred by the ravages of war, sings not 
the "Hymn of Hate," but a psalm of joy — be- 
cause she has come home, come home to France. 



CHAPTER III 
A Visit into Alsace 

THANN, whose few thousands of inhabitants 
have made their town important through 
the cotton, calico and silk industries as well 
as by the excellent wine they grow, is picturesquely 
situated in upper Alsace, sixteen miles from Mul- 
house. Again in the hands of its rightful owners, 
it was with great joy that our French friends 
showed it to us. 

"We cannot allow you to return to America 
without seeing this little lost child back in the 
arms of its mother,'' exclaimed M. Damour, 
civilian leader of our expedition and chief of the 
French Industrial Commission to America, whose 
visit we were returning. 

The square about the cathedral was quiet and 
peaceful — men, women and children promenading 
in the moonlight. The children were inquisitive 
and amused at the group of foreigners who had 
arrived without warning. They followed us as we 
picked our way through the streets which were 
choked with a mingled mass of stone, plaster and 

[47] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

rubbish from the demoHshed buildings. Many 
famihes were Hving in partially destroyed homes, 
and once on turning an angle in the street I caught 
a glimpse of a dimly lighted cellar in which the 
household was gathered in some apparent comfort, 
while above and about their present humble abode 
lay waste and ruin as finished and complete as 
terminated the earthquake of Messina. How- 
ever, we were surprised to find no indication of 
depression or sadness on the faces of these poor 
people who had reached, it would seem, the 
breaking point of suffering. 

German names were above the doors of some of 
the shops still standing, though we found only 
"Ici on parle fran9ais" within. 

"You are the advance guard of the tourists ?" 
smilingly inquired a comely looking woman as 
we stepped into her tiny shop on the square. 
This was quite true, for we were the first foreign 
civilians to visit the town since this coveted land 
of Alsace had been reoccupied by the French. 

The two famous old churches of Thann greatly 
interested me. They have been well described by 
G. P. De Frayne in Les Arts as follows: 

"One of the most beautiful sections of Alsace 
has again become French territory. The charm 

[48] 




CHURCH OF SAINT THIEBALD 



TTHE Church of Saint Thiebald of Thann in 
Alsace, begun in the Fourteenth Century, is one 
of the finest, To v^ehest and most striking examples 
of Gothic architecture extant. This beautiful ca- 
thedral, so exquisitely wrought, is a very part of 
the landscape over which it casts its soft shadows. 



A VISIT INTO ALSACE 

of her Gothic churches is now doubly attractive 
to us. Two of them, especially those of Thann 
and of Vieux-Thann, deserve the particular notice 
of the artistic world at large. Built at the 
very threshold of the Alsatian plain, which is 
dominated by its lofty structure, the Church of 
Saint Thiebald of Thann harmoniously blends its 
pure lines with the surrounding hills; its rise of 
gray stone justifies the saying current in the Rhine- 
lands that the steeple of the Strasbourg Cathedral 
is the highest, that of Fribourg the bulkiest, but 
neither of them can rival in beauty the belfry 
of Thann. 

"Our church, dedicated to St. Thiebald, has 
two remarkable west doors, beautifully carved 
pews, statues of great artistic value, and admirable 
stained-glass windows, which suffered, alas, from 
their contact with German shells. Begun in 1320, 
on the substructure of an older church, which 
dated from the twelfth century, the church of 
Thann was dedicated November 8, 1422, by the 
Archbishop of Besan^on." 

When we were told that the German trenches 
were but 900 yards away, our voices at once 
dropped into whispers and we were willing to 
depart without further delay. Soon we were 

[SI] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

rushing back up the mountainside, past the mouth 
of the tunnel, on a road to the right leading 
toward Gerardmer. 

Just after passing Eyrebus, tracks of a narrow- 
gauge railway paralleled the highway and on these 
rumbled along a number of trains drawn by tiny 
locomotives. Some cars, filled with soldiers, were 
sandwiched in between cars loaded with huge 
cases of foodstuffs and burly casks of wine. 

Amazing cargoes these little toy trains carried 
as they slowly crawled through moonlight and 
shadow. 

The sight of a large force of cavalrymen as we 
passed through Ranspack, busy with their horses, 
grooming and making them ready for the night, 
recalled to mind that in the early days of the war 
the cavalry was used for charging as in former 
times, but under the present conditions the loss in 
horses is so severe that a change has become 
necessary. When cavalry now go into action the 
horses are left behind, the men moving forward 
as infantry. In many instances cavalry are used 
as mounted infantry for rushing a force forward 
to support some portion of a line where reinforce- 
ments are badly needed. 

Our day's journey ended in Gerardmer, a 

[52] 




IN LOVELY ALSACE 



TPHANN, in Alsace, has lived and pursued the 
even tenor of its peaceful ways throughout 
the great war. always within range of the great 
German guns. Shells shriek overhead on their 
diabolic journey of destruction toward the French 
positions. Every now and then a tremendous 
steel messenger of death, whether by accident or 
design, drops and demolishes an inoffensive dwell- 
ing or smashes its way through the walls of 
a church. 



A VISIT INTO ALSACE 

popular summer resort tucked away in a bowl in 
the beautiful Vosges mountains. The fine hotels, 
comfortable pensions and casino set off like 
brilliants the gem of a sapphire lake. A hot 
supper and plenty of good cheer awaited us at the 
Hotel de la Providence. The dining-room was 
bright and comfortable, and we lingered over our 
coffee and nuts until bedtime. 

The intermittent booming of some big guns, 
not a great distance away, made sleep a truant 
for a while. However, I secured a good rest 
during the latter part of the night and arose in 
time to enjoy a delightful walk about the lake 
before breakfast. 

Gerardmer, as a supply depot, was a special 
mark for the German airmen, who were in the 
habit of making regular visits to the town. One 
of these visits came off two days after our de- 
parture. Bombs were dropped from several enemy 
planes but no serious damage resulted. 



55 



CHAPTER IV 
The Battlefield of Col de la Chipotte 

THE morning was glorious, and after a hurried 
breakfast we were soon on our way north 
towards Gerbelle. The sun bathing the 
broad valley of the Meurthe in its yellow light 
accented the red-tiled roofs of innumerable little 
villages which lay hushed and untroubled against 
the green of the meadow or the blue of the distant 
hills. 

Numbers of French officers constantly passed in 
automobiles and on horseback. Long supply and 
post trains lumbered along at the side of the 
road. 

We had just passed through a heavy forest of 
spruce, when we were obliged to stop to repair 
a blow-out, and while the chauffeurs were busy 
Sergeant Forot pointed to the hill near at hand on 
the right and remarked: **Just over beyond lie the 
Germans. We are close to the lines now and 
much of the country about us has been lost and 
won many times since the war began." His 
remark carried little weight with me, for in the 

[57] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

midst of such peaceful surroundings war must be 
still a long way off. 

Again on our way, we passed in an hour the 
Col du Bonhomme, where thousands of French and 
German lives were lost at the beginning, and where 
two great armies were even now contending for 
the summit. The hill was in plain sight, and the 
roar of cannon and the explosion of big shells as 
the battle was desperately fought made us realize 
our proximity to the active front. Many trenches 
and barbed wire entanglements protected the road 
on both sides. 

Peculiar-looking "chevaux-de-frise" lay, in 
groups of six, at the side of the road. They were 
built of heavy timbers in the form of elongated 
sawbucks — were long enough to reach entirely 
across the road and were completely enmeshed in 
the heaviest of barbed wire. A half dozen of 
these ugly hurdles would cause serious delay to a 
troop of cavalry, especially if their position was 
supported by machine-guns. 

Where houses and gardens occurred the barbed 
wire ran in tangled masses at the rear and sides 
and through the rows of vegetables and flowers. 

When we reached the little old town of St. Die 
with its red sandstone houses, we found it had 

[58] 



THE BATTLEFIELD OF COL DE LA CHIPOTTE 

suffered severely. Many buildings had been com- 
pletely wrecked and there were evidences of fierce 
street fighting. The jambs and doors were 
riddled with bullet-holes, and the fronts of the 
houses smashed and torn by shrapnel. 

The arches of the arcades in the principal streets 
were barricaded with sand-bags and at the end of 
the main street the stuccoed walls were pitted by 
thousands of machine-gun bullets. Many houses 
which escaped injury during the bombardment 
were set on fire by incendiary bombs in August 
and September, 1914, and all but their exterior 
walls destroyed. 

An inscription on a marble tablet on the front 
of an old house in this town interested me greatly. 
The following is a translation: 

"In this house on April 27, 1 5 12, was suggested 
and printed in a magazine the name of ^AMERICA* 
as the proper name for the land which was dis- 
covered by Columbus a few years earlier." 

Beyond the town and on the road to Le Voire 
we saw for the first time the much-talked-of road 
screening. Spruce boughs, hung from wire which 
had been stretched between the shade trees on 
the right-hand side of the road, completely hid all 

[59] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

traffic from the eyes of the Germans who occupied 
positions across the valley. 

Now that the war was not such "a long way 
ofF," this simple road screen seemed to me most 
satisfactory and comforting. 

After a while we left the valley and climbed the 
Col de la Chipotte, where the desperate battle of 
the same name was fought. It has been set down 
as the most sanguinary among the early battles of 
the war. Sixty thousand French troops, after 
several days' fighting, succeeded in driving from 
the wooded hills a much larger force of Germans. 
They, however, paid dearly for the victory, for 
thirty thousand of France's best fighting men 
were lost. 

The splendid forest that covered this hill was 
almost completely destroyed. In some sections 
the beautiful trees were stripped of tops and 
branches, and in others, the uprooted, splintered 
and broken trunks showed the effect as of a visit 
by a terrific hurricane. 

In among the trees and stumps as far as one 
could see along the ridge were crosses marking 
the hurriedly dug graves of the dead soldiers. In 
some instances, where time did not permit the 
burial of each body separately, many were interred 

[60] 




XI 



A TRIO OF RUDE CROSSES 



'HIS improvised cemetery marks the spot 
where was fought the sanguinary conflict of 
Col de la Chipotte. The trio of rude crosses is 
the silent reminder to humanity of the thirty 
thousand heroes who fell in this bloody battle 
and who are enshrined in the hearts of the people 
of France and all believers in true democracv. 



THE BATTLEFIELD OF COL DE LA CHIPOTTE 

in long trenches. In some of these large graves 
as many as fifty heroes had at last found rest. 

The Germans who fell here were buried by the 
French and the crosses which mark their graves 
bear the numbers taken from the wrist-bands and 
also a daub of yellow paint to distinguish them from 
the French, whose crosses are marked with red. 
Sometimes a cross is marked with two daubs of 
red or two daubs of yellow to indicate that two 
Frenchmen or two Germans share the same grave, 
and then there are some crosses which bear both 
red and yellow daubs. 

Standing with uncovered head by the latter 
crosses, I pictured the poor bodies below still 
clinched as they had fallen in their hand-to-hand 
struggle for victory and peace, for which each 
had sacrificed all in life and which each had found 
only in death. 

Descending the hill, we entered the deserted 
streets of the village of Roan TEtape, where the 
buildings were almost entirely demolished. On 
either side of the highway beyond the village were 
many crosses, and it was noticeable that the 
fighting which was done here in August, 1914, was 
carried on without the use of trenches. 

The little town of La Neuville, in the valley of 

[63] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

La Meuse, which we next visited, was in a sad 
state of undoing. The few houses which had been 
spared from shell-fire were occupied by those who 
had had the courage to come back after the 
retreat of the Germans. The rubbish had been 
cleared from some of the streets and a few shops 
were open. I seemed to feel something in the 
energetic movement and the determined faces of 
the few inhabitants which indicated a quick 
rehabilitation of the town when the opportunity- 
permitted. 

What looked at a distance to be great guns 
pointing heavenward, proved, as we drew near, 
to be the tall factory chimneys of Baccarat, the 
chief city of the French glass industry, situated 
on the River Meurthe, in the department of 
Meurthe-et-Moselle. The large plant of the Bac- 
carat Company, an exhibition of whose beautiful 
glassware we had seen in Paris, is located here. I 
was told that the people of Baccarat tried to save 
their town from destruction by paying a large 
indemnity to the German general in command of 
the approaching forces. The success of their 
efforts was gratifying, but later a succeeding 
general, who had received no such inducement, 
thoroughly shelled the town and left it in its 

[64] 




LAST RESTING-PLACE FOR THE BRAVE 



■^OT the Croix de Guerre, but the cross of peace. 
These rough-hewn crosses, in a cemetery at 
the French front, were set by their comrades 
above the mangled forms of thousands of poilus 
who died in the trenches for the cause of freedom 
and democracy. Cemeteries are only a little way 
behind the trenches, . since there generally is 
neither time nor transportation facilities to per- 
mit the bodies to be carried into the interior. 
Above the identified dead, the crosses bear white 
numerals, but many of the graves contain name- 
less heroes, the crosses above them bearing no 
mark of identification. 



THE BATTLEFIELD OF COL DE LA CHIPOTTE 

present state of demolition. Square after square 
of homes had been demoHshed and the cathedral 
had been sadly damaged. 

On reaching the River Meurthe we found that 
the fine old stone bridge had been destroyed. We 
crossed on a temporary wooden structure. 

As the morning advanced a cold wind began to 
blow. The sun disappeared behind an overcast 
sky and the day which had begun so bright and 
cheery became dreary and dismal. 

After leaving Baccarat we passed for many miles 
through the battlefields of the Marne, one time 
within three miles of the place where the main 
struggle occurred. Ever5rwhere that the eye 
rested were examples of destruction and havoc. 
Rudely constructed crosses, oftentimes of two 
sticks tied together, pathetically marked the 
innumerable graves. 

By noon we arrived in Rambervilliers, an ancient 
industrial town of about six thousand inhabitants 
and situated on the bank of the Mortagne. The 
proprietor of the Hotel de la Poste cordially re- 
ceived us and cared for our comfort. 

Luncheon over, we hurried on our way towards 
Luneville, passing through what once had been 

[67] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

the villages of Menil and Magnieres, but which 
now are only great piles of dust and rubbish. 

The beautiful Gothic cathedral in Magnieres 
has been completely shot to pieces, the roof gone 
and the side walls punctured with great gaping 
holes. The blackened remains of the houses give 
melancholy evidence of the torture by fire which 
these villages suffered in addition to the bom- 
bardment. 



[68] 



CHAPTER V 

The Battle of the Bridge, and 
Sister Julie 

WE arrived in Gerbevillier, now called "Ger- 
bevillier-la-Martyre," in a cold, penetrating 
rain and found that Monsieur L. Mirman, 
Prefect of the Department of the Meurthe-et-Mo- 
selle, had come from Nancy to meet us and to show 
us the doleful ruins of this once attractive village. 
The best photographs can give but a faint idea 
of the complete violation and ravage which the 
Germans in their fury doled out to this poor town 
on the night they entered it. With the aid of 
oils and other inflammable materials, as well as 
explosives, they gratified their rage and made 
their work of wrecking complete. We were told 
that during that dreadful night of rapine and 
murder, these brutes, after setting fire to the 
houses, stood with smiling faces at the cellar 
entrances and greeted with coarse shouts the old 
men, women and children who, to escape roasting, 
came up into the streets only to be murdered 
by the bloodthirsty invaders. 

[69] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

There was something in the absolute desolation 
of the place, helped, no doubt, by the rain and the 
muddy streets through which we walked in great 
discomfort, that printed the picture of misery into 
my memory. Here, before my eyes, was the 
plain evidence of "the abomination that maketh 
desolate," mentioned in the Scriptures. 

In the doorway of her ruined home stood an 
old woman who had refused the comfort of a 
temporary house that had been tendered, and had 
insisted upon living in what was left of her old 
home, the cellar, which was reached by a narrow, 
winding path through great high drifts of rubbish. 
On a shelf opposite the entrance door in her low, 
dark room were some German spiked helmets, an 
officer's sword, a few time-fuse shells, many clips 
of cartridges and shrapnel bullets — souvenirs of 
those terrible days in which Gerbevilliers struggled 
and died. Her story of suffering, told in a voice 
of despair, was painful to listen to, and after buying 
from her a brass time-fuse from a German shell 
which she had found in the ruins of her home, I left 
with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat. 

Temporary wooden houses have been built out- 
side of the village, and in these the destitute 
families will be quartered until their village has 

[70] 




'HOMELESS" 



HTHE savage warrior comes to once peaceful 
Gerbevillier. This old woman, gazing in 
stupefaction on the remains of her house, is a 
typical sight in this ancient village. Surrounded 
by the desolation of the shell-plowed desert that 
once was forest and field, orchard and garden, 
she refuses to leave what is left of her home. 
And, thrifty soul that she is, she is storing away 
relics of the war to sell to the curio-seeking 
tourists after the conflict ends. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE, AND SISTER JULIE 

been rebuilt. In building the permanent houses 
the design and size of the old ones will be adhered 
to as far as practicable, but modern sanitation, 
ventilation and lighting will be introduced. 

These emergency farmhouses are about twenty- 
five by thirty-five feet and contain a living-room 
and two bedrooms in front and a stable behind. 

They are of wood construction and cost fifty- 
five hundred francs each. The refugees at present 
pay the nominal sum of one franc per year for 
rent. Houses for artisans are being built in blocks 
or rows. These are framed in wood and have 
roofs and sides covered with asbestos tiles. The 
cost of these block houses is approximately twenty- 
seven hundred francs per family. 

Now that the ancient French tax on windows 
and doors has been removed, it is possible with 
the introduction of light and ventilation to make 
headway against the scourge of tuberculosis with 
which the peasants of France have been sadly 
afflicted. 

When this village has been rebuilt it is the hope 
of Prefect Mirman that it can be used as an 
example for rebuilding many of the destroyed 
villages and towns in the devastated regions. 

Two most interesting documents, the Desplas 

[73] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

and the Cornudet bills, the former introduced in 
the Chamber of Deputies, while the latter was 
passed by the Chamber last spring, will be impor- 
tant factors in the rebuilding of the towns and 
villages in the devastated regions. 

In its preamble the Desplas bill sets forth that 
while in all previous wars governments have dis- 
claimed responsibility for damages caused to indi- 
viduals, they must now assume such responsibility, 
and every person in France should contribute his 
share toward repairing the damage. This bill aims 
to provide the method of awarding these damages. 

No hmit is placed as to the total amount that 
shall be spent. In general, the bill pledges the 
Government to pay the owner what it would have 
cost to repair his damage or reconstruct his build- 
ing with materials and labor reckoned at rates 
current at the time the damage took place. If 
the cost of replacement is greater than the amount 
of the award, because of the advanced rates of 
materials and labor, the owner will have to pay 
the excess. As this excess amounts to probably 
fifty per cent, or more, a great deal of outside 
private help will be necessary. 

The Cornudet bill relating to the reconstruction 
of all damaged towns and cities provides that 

[74] 




DOUBLY UNFORTUNATE GERBEVILLIER 



T^HE sorry, doubly unfortunate village of 
Gerbevillier, which first felt the fierce hand of 
the onrushing German hordes, then the terrible 
fate of bombardment by its own countrymen, the 
French, who of necessity shelled the town to 
dislodge the Prussians. The population of the 
town is housed in temporary wooden structures 
erected outside the city itself, which is being 
planned on new and modern lines. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE, AND SISTER JULIE 

they shall be reconstructed along the lines of the 
most approved modern planning and that every 
community shall have a plan to which all changes 
or additions shall be made to conform. A number 
of special sections in the bill apply to the immediate 
reconstruction of destroyed tov^ns. 

Gerbevillier will be remembered in years to 
come not only for the heroic defense of the little 
bridge made at the beginning of the war by the 
handful of French soldiers against an overwhelm- 
ing force of Germans, but also for the brave work 
done by Sister Julie in alleviating distress and 
suffering after the town fell into the hands of 
the enemy. 

In September, 1914, when great hordes of Ger- 
mans were forcing the French army south and 
Von Kluck was endeavoring to turn General 
French's right wing north of Paris, the German 
general at Luneville sent a detachment of 12,000 
men to take the village of Gerbevillier, nine miles 
away, as well as other small towns beyond, pre- 
paratory to the advance of his main army of 
1 50,000. 

The road from Luneville approaching Gerbe- 
villier crosses a bridge just outside of the village, 

[77] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

and the story, graphically told by one of the officers, 
of the heroic defense of this bridge by a company of 
Chasseurs Alpins and the description of Sister Julie's 
fearless deeds thrilled us through and through. 

Anticipating the approach of the enemy, the 
French had barricaded the streets and had taken 
positions of vantage in and behind the buildings, 
firmly determined to hold the advance until their 
small force had been entirely annihilated. 

Seventy-five Chasseurs Alpins with four mitrai- 
lleuses were concealed in a small house overlooking 
the river at the near end of the narrow bridge, 
which was not wide enough to accommodate two 
automobiles passing in opposite directions. 

Though seemingly impossible, this valiant band, 
we were told, held in check twelve thousand Ger- 
man troops from ten o'clock in the morning until 
four in the afternoon, when, with ammunition 
depleted, they could no longer prevent the Huns 
from making a crossing. 

With the morning sun glinting brightly on 
helmet and bayonet, the Boches swung down the 
road, singing lustily as they advanced. 

In close formation they soHdly packed the 
bridge on which were trained the mitrailleuses from 
the house on the bank above. 

[78] 




AN ALERT MACHINE-GUN CREW 



"D EADY for the morning's interchange of com- 
-'^ pliments. The ever alert crew of a French 
machine-gun ready for the stern work of the day. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE, AND SISTER JULIE 

When the front ranks had just cleared the 
bridge, the French captain gave the signal and 
the death-dealing streams of steel bullets played 
back and forth from one end to the other until all 
movement ceased and the dusty white roadbed 
was blotted out with a tangled mass of humanity 
clad in greenish-drab uniforms. The few who 
escaped that fearful ordeal joined those at the 
rear in a scramble up the hill. 

After an half-hour's breathing spell, a detach- 
ment of cavalry attempted to make a crossing 
but met with no better success than had the 
infantry. Horses and riders were mercilessly 
mowed down, the impetus of the charge often 
carrying their bodies over the parapet and into 
the river below. 

A long delay now occurred while the Germans 
brought a battery from Luneville with which to 
destroy the little house. Either on account of 
the unfortunate position of the guns or because of 
poor marksmanship, the gunners failed to score a 
hit and were finally driven from their position by 
the accurate and ceaseless fire of the Chasseurs. 

The Germans then turned their attention to an 
old chateau a short distance down the river, 
believing it to be filled with French troops. 

[8i] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

When this most interesting and historical build- 
ing had been partially demolished by shells, an 
attempt was made to cross the river by a foot- 
bridge near the chateau. 

In the meantime the French had sent one of 
their machine-guns to cover this foot-bridge and 
the fire from this gun was so successful that the 
Germans were not only unable to cross the river 
but were obliged to withdraw their battery from 
its position. 

Toward the close of the day the brave defenders, 
their ammunition spent, were compelled to give way 
to the rushing hordes who crossed the river and 
swarmed into the town. The Germans were 
angered and infuriated to the point of madness by 
the loss of over two hundred and fifty of their men 
and the delay of a whole day in their advance. 

A night of carnage and butchery followed. All 
of the old men, women and children that could be 
found were murdered and their dwellings wrecked 
and burned. 

When day dawned but eighteen buildings of the 
four hundred and seventy-five of which the village 
had boasted remained intact — the rest had been 
either utterly destroyed by explosives or by fire. 
The blackened sepulchers of once happy homes 

[82I 



THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE, AND SISTER JULIE 

Stood silent and gaunt — the charred remains of 
the fallen roofs and floors, and of the furniture, 
still smouldered and smoked in the morning 
sunHght. 

The Prefect told us that when he came into the 
town, immediately upon the retreat of the Ger- 
mans, he found sixty women and children dead in 
the streets; not killed in the course of battle, but 
murdered by the German butchers. 

The Hospice of Saint Charles, nestled in be- 
tween two old dwellings, carried on its work of 
mercy under the direction of that wonderful 
woman. Sister Julie, of whom the whole world 
now knows. 

On that horrible night when the Huns made 
shambles of the streets of Gerbevillier, there 
were many wounded soldiers lying in the dimly 
lighted wards of the Hospice. Here and there 
a German face, among the many others, proved 
that the good sisters were bestowing their merciful 
care on all who were brought to their doors, 
unmindful of nationality. 

When the orgy was at its height, an officer with 
some soldiers hammered at the door and demanded 
that the Sisters leave in order that the Hospice 
might be destroyed as had the other buildings. 

[83] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

Sister Julie then appeared and begged the officer 
in memory of his mother, and for the sake of the 
wounded and the dying with which the building 
was filled, to spare the Hospice. She told him 
that she was caring for the wounded Germans as 
tenderly as she was for her own wounded country- 
men. 

The earnestness of her plea met with success, 
though the officer insisted upon being shown the 
patients in order that he could have proof for 
himself of the truth of her statement. We were 
told that in going through the wards he tore the 
bandages from the wounds, causing the blood to 
flow afresh, giving the excuse that he was search- 
ing for weapons. 

Sister Julie finally succeeded in getting rid of 
the officer and his men and thus saved her patients 
from death and the Hospice from ruin. She sat 
in a chair at the front entrance throughout most 
of the night to guard her charges. When the 
buildings all about her were blazing fiercely, she 
made some of the Germans carry water and put 
out fires which had been started in adjoining 
buildings, and also leave a tub of water in the hall 
of the Hospice so that fires could be quenched 
if started by flying embers. 

[84] 




THE MAGXIERES CATHEDRAL STILL STANDS 



HTHE Magnieres Cathedral still stands — torn 
and almost destroyed, its side walls penetrated 
with great gaping holes, it proudly rears its head 
with an added air of magnificence, while around 
it the little village lies a desolate waste. 



THE BATTLE OF THE BRIDGE, AND SISTER JULIE 

The cross of the Legion of Honor was conferred 
upon this undaunted woman for her brave and 
heroic work. President Poincare came from Paris 
to pin the cross, the highest of all decorations in 
France, upon her breast. 

The only keen regret we registered during our 
trip just behind the front was in missing Sister 
Julie when we visited the Hospice. She was away 
on one of her errands of mercy in a neighboring 
village. 



[87] 




A TEMPORARY BRIDGE ACROSS THE MEUSE 



A/TANY of the magnificent stone bridges of 
France, which are among the finest ex- 
amples of artistic-utilitarian architecture to be 
found anywhere, have been reduced to dust by 
enemy fire. When the supply of pontoons be- 
came exhausted, the French military engineers 
promptly and ingeniously made use of materials 
closest to hand. Here, on the Meuse, ordinary 
truck and farm carts were used as foundations 
for a bridge that carried thousands of soldiers 
single file to the advance trenches. 



CHAPTER VI 

Nancy, the Home of Prefect Mirman 

IN a drenching rain, and with the reverberating 
thunder of the big guns, we entered Luneville 
and were at once filled with gloom and sad- 
ness at the scene of desolation about us. This 
garrison town with its important cavalry station 
before the war was one of the many places which 
the Germans destroyed by fire before retreating. 
It is situated at the confluence of the Meurthe 
and the Vezouge rivers, and before its ruin retained 
a flavor of the decayed splendor of the Dukes of 
Lorraine, who resided here in the early eighteenth 
century. Francis of Lorraine, son of Duke Leo- 
pold, who afterwards became Francis I., was 
born here. 

The old chateau, built in 1706 by Duke Leo- 
pold, from plans by Boffrand, a pupil of Mansard, 
and afterwards embellished by Stanislas, has been 
partially destroyed by fire several times, but 
sufficient is left to enable one to realize the noble 
grandeur of the original building. It is now used 
as a cavalry barracks. 

[91] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

Among the later disasters which Luneville 
suffered was the destruction of her public market 
by bombs from German airplanes. This happened 
ten days before our visit and caused the death 
of forty-one women who were either tending the 
stalls or making their purchases. When one looked 
upon the ruins of the market, one could easily 
have believed from the aged and mouldy surface 
which the rains had given the piles of rubbish 
that the demolition had occurred many years ago. 

In the village of Vitrimont, which we next 
visited, we found one small peasant cottage stand- 
ing. This wee house of but two rooms is now the 
home of Miss Daisy Polk, of CaHfornia, who is 
acting for the California committee in the re- 
building of this village. Two little old peasant 
women with round, cheery faces set off by ker- 
chiefs and lace caps, keep the place immaculate, 
care for the garden and do the cooking for Miss 
Polk. 

The red-tiled floors, the rude but comfortable 
furniture and the flowering plants in the windows 
helped build an oasis of comfort in this desert of 
crumbled stone and plaster. Miss Polk had on 
her pay-roll about fifty men and women who were 

[92] 




REGARDS TO THE BOCHE 



TPHE saucy, ever-chattering machine-gun, its 
operators helmeted and wearing gas-masks, 
seeks to silence a German weapon of the same 
kind in a trench a few hundred yards distant 
across the bleak and barren plain. In the middle 
ground are posts holding barbed wire entangle- 
ments, erected to check the Prussian mass attacks. 



NANCY, THE HOME OF PREFECT MIRMAN 

too old to be of service in connection with the 
great struggle, and with these people she was 
constructing new roofs where the four walls of 
the houses were still standing, and rebuilding 
other houses from the old stone, beams and flooring 
found in the wreckage. 

The rain followed us all the way to Nancy but 
could not dampen our enthusiasm for the famous 
Place Stanislas in which we arrived towards 
evening. This world-famous square, with its four 
exquisitely wrought iron gateways, its fountains 
and its splendid architectural setting, was built in 
the time of Louis XVI. from designs by the man 
whose name it bears. At my first view of it, and 
even in the unfavorable conditions of a cheerless, 
drizzling rain and approaching night, it seemed to 
me to fulfill its reputation. 

While our rooms were being prepared in the 
Grand Hotel, I strolled about the town. Many 
people were hurrying along upon their business, 
httle concerned, apparently, with the war which 
had brought occasional visits of the German shells 
and frequent raids by their airplanes. The tram- 
cars, run by sturdy women in uniform, clanged 
their way through the streets. The shops were 

[95] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

flourishing, if one could judge by the number of 
persons who filled them. 

The industries of the town, I was told, were all 
running as usual. The lighting and power plant, 
the water supply, the poste et telegraphe, barber 
shops, hotels and stores were busy uninterruptedly. 
Among the present population of about seventy 
thousand, a little more than half of the population 
in 1914, there was little indication of worry or fear. 
The anxious days which these people have spent 
in the past two and a half years have confirmed 
them in their calm and composure. 

When the alarm gives notice that hostile air- 
craft are approaching or a bursting shell warns of 
the beginning of a bombardment, they lose no 
time in getting off the streets or out of the shops, 
cafes or from their beds into the first cellar, the 
entrance to which is indicated by the double cross 
of Lorraine painted in red above the doorway. 
All large cellars which have vaulted stone roofs 
are thus marked and have entrances both from 
the street and from the interior of the building. 

If a bombardment is in progress, the citizens 
wait patiently in the cellars, timing with their 
watches the interval between explosions. They 
immediately emerge and proceed about their 

[96] 



NANCY, THE HOME OF PREFECT MIRMAN 

business when twice the regular interval elapses, 
for they then know that the shelling has ceased 
for the present. 

On a side street I found the remains of a school 
where one hundred and thirty children were at 
their studies when a German shell crashed on the 
roof of the building. The shell failed to explode 
and the schoolmistress hurried the children into 
the cellar before a second shell struck in the same 
place. It was well she acted quickly, for the upper 
part of the building was completely destroyed 
by the second shell. Whether by accident or 
design, the German newspaper accounts a few 
days later actually stated that their artillery had 
destroyed a "French supply depot" in the city 
of Nancy! 

On returning to the hotel I found that there was 
not sufficient help to prepare dinner for our large 
party. We consequently dined at the Restaurant 
Stanislas, diagonally across the square. 

After dinner, Madame Mirman and her two 
charming daughters graciously entertained us at 
the Prefecture. During the evening they re- 
counted many interesting incidents of the war, 
and showed us a collection of shells of many sizes 
which had been gathered for them in and about 

[97] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

Nancy. These shells gave a good idea of the guns 
the Germans were using. 

The young ladies described exciting days which 
they had spent since the war began and recalled 
their emotions on a day when three thousand 
shells shrieked through the air on their way to 
the French batteries behind the city. They told 
us that on many days shells passed overhead at 
intervals of every few minutes from nine in the 
morning till five in the evening. Then there were 
days when the shells did not go over, but stopped 
with a crash on homes, churches, hospitals, schools 
and in the streets. Even now it is not unusual for 
shells to drop into the city without warning while 
the Germans check the range of their big guns 
some fifteen miles away. 

The charming spirit in the home life of these 
dear people who are devoting their best efforts of 
mind and body to the care and comfort of their 
suffering fellow men will always remain most 
pleasantly in my memory. 

The joy in my first brief view of Nancy impelled 
me to rise early the next morning and to stir 
out immediately after cafe au lait. 

Nestling among the wooded hills eleven hundred 

[98] 




THE OLD TOWER 



TTHE picturesque Old Tower on the River Thur, 
in Thann, affords a vision of tranquil delight. 
In this beautiful valley of the Moselle, Nature 
seemed to develop into her most sublime loveli- 
ness. This photograph is of a charming bit of 
the Old World when the world really was old. It 
is a new world now — we hope a new world of 
democracy triumphant. 



NANCY, THE HOME OF PREFECT MIRMAN 

feet above the sea, this most charming Httle city 
captivates all who visit her. 

The red roofs and stuccoed walls of her pretty 
homes were softened by the shadows of the beauti- 
ful elms, maples and horse-chestnuts. The 
blooms of late summer still filled the gardens, 
and over the arbors clambered masses of vines 
ablaze in their rich fall coloring. The excellent 
hotels, restaurants, schools, theattes and opera, as 
well as a splendid public library and museum, 
all help, surely, to make Nancy a delightful resi- 
dential city. 

Back of the town but still within range of the 
German guns live two thousand old men, women 
and children gathered from the razed towns and 
villages. They are State charges, housed, cared 
for and fed in some old barracks, and are under 
the supervision of Prefect Mirman. 

In great long rooms which are comfortably 
equipped with beds, benches and stoves, these poor 
people are, as far as possible, divided and main- 
tained in groups from their home villages. This 
care in grouping, we were told, has added much to 
their comfort. Old women with bent figures and 
wearing white lace caps sit about and discuss the 
harrowing events they have just lived through, 

[lOl] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

and dream of the time when the war shall be over 
and they may return to their villages and rebuild 
their homes and plant their gardens. White iron 
hospital beds are arranged along each wall, and 
above the heads are shelves on which one notes the 
few cherished remembrances of a once happy 
home — a crucifix, a little picture, a box, a mirror 
or a brass candlestick — so little to have saved 
and yet so precious to the poor owner. 

Some of the rooms are used as wards for the 
orphans and for those children whose parents are 
at the front or in the munition works. Above the 
little beds are small piles of extra linen frocks, and 
in between the piles is sometimes tucked away 
a doll or other plaything, the only Hnk the child 
has between the happy past and dreadful present. 

When the barracks were first opened for the 
refugees, the Prefect told the doctors that the 
people were coming from towns and villages where 
sanitary conditions were unknown and that, with- 
out great care, sickness would prevail when large 
numbers of them were confined in the none too 
ample quarters. The doctors were promised that 
funds would be forthcoming to provide all help 
necessary, but that they would be held responsible 
for the general welfare of the refugees. If an 

[102] 




A COMMEMORATIVE RELIGIOUS PROCESSION 



A RELIGIOUS procession, commemorative of 
the French re-occupation, wending its way 
through the ruins of the once lovely and cloistered 
village of Gerbevillier. Scarcely a home stood 
whole and uninjured after the German evacua- 
tion — only shapeless masses, hummocks of brick, 
stone, iron and splintered wood. Yet, on the 
site of these sorry ruins, a new Gerbevillier is 
arising — a Gerbevillier of model homes that will 
serve for examples in rebuilding other French 
towns and will mark the advance of new France. 



NANCY, THE HOME OF PREFECT MIRMAN 

epidemic broke out the doctors would be tried by 
court martial and if found guilty of neglect would 
be sentenced to death and shot. 

In a large wooden building with a capacity of 
between two or three thousand people, built at 
the rear of the barracks, for use as a chapel, old 
men, women and children were attending service. 
The interior, its woodwork stained a warm brown, 
was lighted by many candles. As we entered, the 
singing of the boy choir and the fervent attitude 
of the poor homeless worshippers praying to "God, 
from whom all blessings flow,** showed vividly 
the abiding faith of the French people, their 
prayers and music mingling with the intermittent 
mutter of the enemy's guns which continued to 
blast and destroy but a few miles away. 

There is a large work-room connected with the 
barracks and in it the women are ever busy sewing 
bags for the trenches and sheets for the hospitals. 
In this building is also the kitchen whence the 
food comes, clean, well cooked and palatable. 
One franc per day, per person, covers the cost. 

I was pleased to learn that the Prefect, in addi- 
tion to all the other excellent arrangements for 
the care of these poor people, had even found 
time to plan for their recreation. He had built 

[105] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

a little theatre in which many plays and moving- 
picture shows are given. The Prefect told us he 
had found amusement indispensable even in these 
trying times and that, in addition to the good such 
recreation was doing the refugees, he had been 
able to save a number of his superintendents who 
otherwise would have been worn out by the strain. 
No gratuitous help is used in any of this work. It 
is found more satisfactory to pay good wages to 
the men and women who are helping to carry on 
this worthy service. 

During a delightful luncheon at the Restaurant 
Stanislas, Prefect Mirman spoke with great feeling 
and appreciation of the work which Miss Polk of 
the California committee was doing in reconstruc- 
tion. He also referred eloquently to the brilliant 
services rendered by the strong and daring young 
Americans in the ambulance and flying corps 
and to the affection which the American people, 
through their great sympathy for France in 
her distress had created in the hearts of his 
countrymen. 

The Prefect's charming and magnetic person- 
ality, linked with his executive ability, makes him 
particularly well suited for the great work he 
is doing. 

[io6] 











^ ^M 



'EMPTY HUSKS' 



A GREAT heap of metal envelopes which con- 
tained France's reply to the Hun. These 
empty shell-cases were collected in the rear of a 
battery of French guns. The appetite of the 
cannon is insatiable. 



NANCY, THE HOME OF PREFECT MIRMAN 

His hearty hand-shake and sunny smile help to 
smooth out the lines of distress from many a 
furrowed brow. His kind words never fail to 
comfort the poor people who are bearing bravely 
and without complaint the taking of fathers, sons 
or brothers, as well as the loss of their homes and 
the savings of a lifetime. 

The sector in which Nancy lies was free from 
active fighting while we were in it, but as we 
started west towards Bar-le-Duc we were told that 
we might at any moment look for plenty of action 
and that perhaps we would find more than enough. 

By noon we had reached one of the oldest towns 
in France — ^Toul, on the left bank of the Moselle. 
Together with Verdun and Metz, Toul forms a 
triangle of great fortifications. The French have 
tried assiduously to regain Metz so as to control 
again the three famous forts. 

After wending our way through the twisted 
streets of this quaint town, famous since its earliest 
days for its wine and brandy, we crossed the Moselle 
and were again stopped by a sentry who carefully 
vised our papers before allowing us to proceed. 

The villages through which we passed after 
leaving Toul had escaped the German shells, and 
the atmosphere seemed normal enough save for 
the troops quartered in them. 
[109] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

Groups of children were playing in the streets; 
their rosy cheeks, happy shouts and laughter prov- 
ing that they had not suffered like the children of 
some villages through which we had passed. I 
was surprised to learn that in this section of 
France families of six or even eight fine, healthy 
children were not uncommon. If such a condition 
had prevailed years ago in all sections of France 
there could have been no talk of race suicide and 
the country would have been much better pre- 
pared with men for this present war. 

As we approached Pagny, the meadows were 
flooded from the almost incessant rains of the past 
week. Wagons and farming machinery of all kinds 
stood nearly submerged in the meadows, looking 
like submarine contraptions which had come to the 
surface in search of an enemy. Lined along the 
sides of the main road at the outskirts of the town 
were innumerable wagons of all descriptions. These 
had been impressed as lorries for carrying pro- 
visions to the front. 

On leaving the town our car was stopped at the 
command of the sentry for the usual examination 
of papers, and the booming of the great guns at 
St. Mihiel could be distinctly heard. 

[no] 



CHAPTER VII 
Chalons and Its War Cemetery 

THE rain which had been holding off all morn- 
ing now fell in torrents. The roadside ditches 
were rushing streams and the sodden fields 
were beginning to submerge. The little town of 
Vigny looked wobegone and deserted save for the 
few soldiers who, mounted or on foot, were hurry- 
ing here and there about their important business. 
Beyond the town we came upon a very long supply 
train of one hundred wagons whose canvas hoods 
reminded me of our old prairie-schooners. Each 
was packed to its full capacity with provisions. 
The great number of these supply trains, post 
trains and ammunition trains, which we were con- 
stantly passing, visualized in part the machinery 
and the vast quantity of material required to sup- 
port the fighting forces in the trenches. 

In the gathering gloom of a forlorn night, we 
entered the deserted streets of Bar-le-Duc, the 
ancient capital of the Dukes of Bar, situated on the 
Ornain, and one of the chief towns of the Depart- 
ment of the Meuse. In normal times the popula- 

[III] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

tion is about 18,000, but we learned that most of 
the inhabitants had departed for the south of 
France. 

It was not the thought of the fine preserves and 
excellent wines for which Bar-le-Duc is noted that 
made me wish to linger for a day in the town. I 
had in mind the Church of San Antoine built in 
the fourteenth century, with its beautiful stained 
glass and its window tracery. 

A study of the church or a view of the portrait 
of Tintoretto, by himself, in the Musee, would 
have been a sufficient inducement. However, our 
military papers prescribed our route and scheduled 
our stops, and as we were due to spend the night 
of October 8th in Chalons, to Chalons we went 
forthwith. 

Our chauffeurs, who were exceptionally skilful 
men, had been driving for officers since the begin- 
ning of the war, and it was therefore not surprising 
that they drove at what seemed to us a reckless 
speed. Although we were obliged to travel a great 
deal after dark, without lights, our drivers showed 
no apparent inclination to lessen the speed estab- 
lished in the daytime. They seemed determined 
to get the most out of the machines and I am sure 
they were successful. My only consolation lay in 

[112] 









RfiVIGNY— A PICTURE OF DEVASTATION 



A NOTHER of the almost numberless victims 
-^ of Hunnish shells, Revigny is a mass of 
rubbish, great piles of brick and stone and plaster 
and twisted iron. This quiet little town in the 
valley of the Marne presents a picture of prac- 
tically complete devastation, the few houses that 
still stand only accentuating the miser>' of de- 
struction. In most cases the homes that were 
are represented by pathetic reminders in the 
form of stark, rugged outlines of a chimney or a 
portion of a plastered wall. 



CHALONS AND ITS WAR CEMETERY 

the thought that at the rate we traveled we made 
poor targets for the German guns which often were 
trained on the roads we had to traverse. The 
term *' nerve-racked" fairly describes my condition 
after traveling four hours in the darkness. 

The ruins of Revigny, a town of two thousand 
inhabitants before the war, were in complete dark- 
ness when we arrived. By the use of our head- 
lights, which were turned on for a few minutes, we 
were able to see rising here and there from out the 
wet mass of rubbish the stark, ragged outlines of 
a chimney or portion of plastered wall — pathetic 
reminders of a once peaceful home. 

I was much depressed by the sight of the utter 
destruction about us as we slowly crept between 
the great piles of brick, stone, plaster and 
twisted iron. 

Through the main street were lined wagons of 
a long supply and post train; the poor tired horses 
standing with drooping heads and ears, soaking 
wet and steaming in the rain, no doubt grateful, 
as were their drivers, for their short respite from 
exhausting work. 

It was not always easy for our chauffeurs to find 
their way in the dark, and when we lost sight of 
the car ahead it was with considerable uneasiness 

[IIS] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

that we pushed on at top speed. While on the 
main highways we had httle trouble in keeping the 
road, but when passing through the demolished 
villages and towns many opportunities for losing 
our route presented themselves. 

Twice during the night after leaving Bar-le-Duc 
we lost our way, but by sheer good fortune arrived 
at the *' Hotel de la Haute Mere de Dieu'' in 
Chalons at ten o'clock with no damage other than 
a severe strain to our nervous systems. The meal 
had been prepared and waiting for us since seven 
o'clock and we did not hesitate to show our interest 
in the repast that was set before us. 

As the hotel with its reduced help could not take 
care of our entire party, some were billeted to 
quarters a few blocks away, and not long after 
dinner those who were to "sleep out" started 
across the square to find their beds. Without help 
we might have spent the night searching, for no 
gleam of light was allowed through chink of win- 
dow or crack of door and the night was black. 
Besides, the turns and angles of the narrow streets 
of Chalons were most puzzling. 

I found I was not to occupy a room in the Hotel 
d'Angleterre, to which I had been directed by the 
motherly old proprietress, but had been billeted to 

[ii6] 




MAKING READY FOR ACTION 



VfAKING ready for action one of the great 
^^^ French guns, the Rimailho, so named after 
its inventor, the French general. It is no easy 
task to move these tremendous cannon over the 
soft earth. The caterpillar treads are given the 
surety of hold and support afforded by planks 
laid along the path as a temporary track. 



CHALONS AND ITS WAR CEMETERY 

a room in an old house on the opposite corner, 
owned by Madame Jacquard, who loaned two of 
her best rooms to the hotel on occasion. 

After entering the small stone-flagged hall, I 
stepped down into my room, which occupied the 
corner of the house and, lighting a candle, looked 
about me. The warm coziness of the room re- 
moved it at once from the class of ** hotel rooms." 
The floor was covered with a velvet carpet in good 
soft-green tones. The walls of warm gray were 
hung with interesting and well-framed prints, and 
the Louis XVI. furniture with its excellent tapes- 
try covering breathed of more fortunate times and 
more luxurious surroundings. 

The bed strongly appealed to my appreciation 
of comfort and, well pleased with my lot, I slipped 
under the covers and was soon among scenes un- 
touched by the carnage of war. On awaking early 
the next morning I found it difficult to place my- 
self. The sounds of voices and of hurried footsteps 
were so very close to me that for the moment they 
seemed in the room. 

The casement windows were open, but the iron 
shutters closed. I sprang from bed and was push- 
ing them open with effort when there was a bump, 
a shout and a scrambling, together with loud 

[119] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

laughter from across the street; and lo! before my 
eyes was the ludicrous figure of a fat postman whom 
the swinging shutters had struck in the stomach 
and cleared completely off the absurdly narrow 
sidewalk. The man's surprise proved hard to ex- 
press promptly in words and before he could speak 
I apologized to his evident satisfaction, and again 
amused the group of schoolboys by my speech in 
pajamas from the open window. 

The morning, crisp and bright, promised a fair 
day. After dressing I breakfasted in the garden, 
surrounded by beds of asters and chrysanthemums. 

"Would you Hke to accompany me to the War 
Cemetery?" smilingly inquired my pretty hostess, 
as she appeared in the kitchen doorway. Of 
course I would, and finishing my coffee I took a 
last look about the sweet little garden and 
joined her. 

I was pleased to carry the basket containing 
beautiful flowering chrysanthemums which were 
to be planted on the graves of two boys whose 
parents lived far away in the south, and who had 
written requesting her to perform the service 
for them. 

Near the outskirts of the city, the cemetery, a 
few acres of unoccupied land in the beginning of 

[120] 




'IN THE DEMOCRACY OF THE DEAD' 



r 



N THE democracy of the dead, all men, at 
last, are equal. There is neither rank, sta- 
tion, nor prerogative in the republic of the grave," 
said Robert G. Ingersoll. In many of these 
cemeteries— beautifully kept gardens they appear, 
with their neat, well-kept walks, bordered with 
cheerful flowers — the soldiers of France share their 
final earthly resting-place with the Prussian and 
Mohammedan warriors, victims of the world 
holocaust, yet victors after all, because they 
have at last found peace. 



CHALONS AND ITS WAR CEMETERY 

the war, was now the last home of thousands of 
brave young fellows who at the first bugle-call had 
gone smiling to their duty, believing that Christ- 
mas would find them home again, happy and well, 
among their families and friends. 

The broad, well-kept walks bordered with flower- 
ing plants, the orderly arrangement and the dignity 
of the place brought to my hps words of praise for 
the good people who, through all the distressing 
times since the retreat of the Germans in the fall 
of 1914, had made and cared for this beautiful 
garden where the bodies of many of the best sons 
of France have been reverently laid to rest. 

After the battle of Chalons, trenches were dug 
six feet deep, eight feet wide and seventy-five feet 
long, and as the dead were brought from the front 
and from the hospitals they were tenderly laid 
Side by side and covered with earth, leaving the 
remaining portion of the long graves to accommo- 
date the bodies which would arrive on the days to 
come. Rows upon rows of black wooden crosses 
three feet in height mark with eternal sadness the 
last resting-place of the soldiers. 

On the crosses are stenciled in white numerals 
the numbers which were taken from the aluminum 
wrist-bands and over the cross-arms are hung 

[123] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

beautiful imperishable wreaths wrought in colored 
beads; some of the crosses have several wreaths, 
but many, many of them are without the slightest 
indication that those at home know of the resting- 
place of their loved ones. 

There were also many German soldiers mterred 
here, and toward the farther end the Star and 
Crescent neatly worked out in a large bed of 
flowers indicated the section in which a number 
of Spahis had been buried. These poor fellows 
are buried in a standing position, facing the east, 
and the individual graves therefore occupy a space 
on the surface of only twenty-four inches square. 

They are thus interred that Mahomet may, 
according to their belief, easily lift the candidates 
into heaven by the ears! 

While we were in the cemetery a poor woman 
came and, grasping the pickets of the neat white 
fence, sobbed as though her heart would break. 
She was the picture of abject misery. Each morn- 
ing she comes to plead with the gardeners to tell 
her the whereabouts of her dear man from whom 
she has heard nothing since he went bravely from 
Chalons to fight the savage Huns more than two 
years ago. You may be sure that she has searched 
every dead face that has come to the garden, but 

[124] 




A WAR-TIME CEMETERY 



T^HE heroic sons of France lie buried here in 
-'- this well-ordered cemetery behind the lines. 
The last resting-place of the brave poilu who has 
laid aside his gun forever is marked with the 
numerals stamped on the aluminum wrist-band 
which had been attached to his wrist. To these 
cemeteries come tired-eyed women, some with 
flowers and wreaths to brighten the graves of 
their lost loved ones, others to search for their 
heroes of whose fate they know not. 



CHALONS AND ITS WAR CEMETERY 

she Stood that day, as she has stood each day for 
many months, slowly being consumed by grief. 

The sweet peacefulness of this flower-scented 
garden was suddenly shattered by the crash of 
bursting shells and the roar of guns as the artillery 
began its daily activity but a few miles away. 
The reverberations soon merged into the con- 
tinuous roll of heavy thunder and my blood quick- 
ened as my thoughts were rudely brought back 
from their dreaming to the present-day happenings 
of a sad, mad world. 

While on my way through the winding streets 
of old Chalons in search of the thirteenth-century 
cathedral, I recalled the history of some of the 
trials and sieges which this chief town of the 
Department of the Marne has suffered since its 
early days. 

Great battles were fought here in the third century, 
and it was in the middle of the fifth century that 
the Huns were defeated by the Romans, Franks 
and Visigoths in so important a conflict that it is 
set down as one of the fifteen decisive battles of 
the world. 

Without doubt this town had a good and early 
training. Centuries passed, but her troubles were 
ever present. The Prussians occupied the city in 
[127] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

1814, the Russians in 1815, and the Germans in 
1870, and again in 1914. Is it any wonder that 
the atmosphere of this venerable city creates in 
one the deepest reverence? 

It is most fortunate that the Germans in their 
retreat in September, 1914, did not shell the 
Cathedral or the Church of Notre Dame, which is 
situated just behind the Hotel de Ville; for the 
destruction of these architectural monuments 
would have proved an irreparable loss to the 
world equal to those of Louvain and Ypres. The 
Church of Notre Dame is supposed to have been 
begun in the twelfth century and its structure 
is most interesting on account of the combination 
of Romanesque and Gothic styles. Here again 
the superb glass! The gems and jewels of the 
vitreous art of the Middle Ages, through which 
the sunlight streaming fell in soft iridescences of 
rose, amber, emerald and purple upon nave and 
transept and choir. 

The people in the streets hurried briskly in the 
cool, crisp autumn air, each busied with his own 
concerns and unconscious of the heavy inter- 
mittent reverberations which noisily announced 
the proximity of the great world war and its 
accompanying death and destruction. 

[128] 



CHAPTER VIII 
On the Road to Rheims 

IN THE middle of the forenoon we reluctantly- 
entered our motor cars, left the interesting 
old town, and were soon on the highway lead- 
ing to that most noted historical city, Rheims. 
The country was glorious — great fields of prime 
alfalfa lay on either side. Then came long stretches 
of country symmetrically laid out with thrifty 
young pine and spruce, samples of France's com- 
prehensive plan of reforestration. 

The highway, bordered with fine Norway maples, 
lay as a taut gray ribbon straight before us. Like 
a "Midway" in a great world's fair, this enchant- 
ing road held much of interest. I turned hurried- 
ly from right to left, fearing lest I might miss 
something on either side — like a child at a two- 
ringed circus. 

Sergeant Forot, turning toward me, pointed to 
a half-dozen objects showing high against the sky 
on the right of the road. Then I saw for the first 
time the sausage balloons, those great bologna- 
shaped gas-bags which, tethered behind the lines, 

[129] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

are invaluable to the army as observation posts. 
From his high position in one of these posts, the 
observer detects through his binoculars the move- 
ments of the enemy troops, the approach of rein- 
forcements, or the preparation for an attack, and 
at once telephones his information to headquarters. 

As we approached Les Grandes Loges, we over- 
took a company of mitrailleurs returning from 
the front trenches to billets in rest camp. The 
men were rough-looking and dirty, covered with 
mud and grime, but they seemed well and hearty, 
with plenty of snap and vigor left in them. Their 
eyes shone with a singularly keen earnestness and 
fervor — expressions of the wonderful spirit of de- 
termination and constancy which have helped 
make the French soldier the object of our wonder 
and admiration. 

Between the evenly spaced shade trees on the 
right-hand side was a protective screen sometimes 
made of pine boughs and at others of jute material, 
in both cases hung from wire stretched about 
sixteen feet above the ground. 

"We are now within the range of the German 
shells,'* called back our sergeant; "the screen is 
absolutely necessary." It certainly added much 
to my comfort. 

[130] 




.\FTER THE ENEMY HAD PASSED 



/^N the shell-torn bank of the Somme, where 
some of the fiercest fighting of the war 
occurred. Not only did German shells work 
their havoc, but the French and English guns, 
too, wrought destruction. These ruins do not 
picture the state of one town, but of hundreds of 
French towns and villages. Official photogra- 
phers and correspondents are here shown record- 
ing the desolation after the passing of the enemy. 



ON THE ROAD TO RHEIMS 

Airplanes used for reconnoitering are parked 
at intervals back of the front. We passed from 
time to time one of these parks where everything 
was in readiness. On the instant of a telephone 
order six eager "hawks" would rise in search of 
their prey, and from the records seldom failed to 
find and destroy it. Hangars built of wooden 
frames and stretched with canvas are so well 
painted in camouflage that it is impossible for the 
enemy airmen to discover them. 

The larger machines are equipped with wireless 
with which to advise their headquarters as to the 
position and movement of the enemy. Smoke- 
balls as well as a system of spirals and dips are 
used to direct the fire of the artillery. 

A large airplane sailing along above us was 
under orders to convoy us over the dangerous 
portion of our road and to signal for help if trouble 
came to us. 

The presence of barbed wire entanglements, 
screens and trenches along the way suggested 
the nearness of the enemy and also that it might 
have been well to slow up a bit and go more 
cautiously. But no, our chauffeurs, who have 
been over this road many times in the past 

[133] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

two years, deemed it more expedient, to my regret, 
to increase the speed. 

"You should have been here an hour ago," said 
the sentry as we entered the village of Beaumont. 
"The bursting of a *i8o' is something to see." I 
expressed my regret at not having arrived in time, 
but did not stop to investigate the damage as I 
believed in the old adage that "troubles never 
come singly," and felt that I would rather learn 
of the arrival of the second shell while I was going 
away from there. 

Our nearness to the German lines soon became 
of serious moment. We were warned by the 
sentries on leaving Beaumont that it would be 
very unsafe for us to continue on the main road to 
Rheims. We therefore made a detour south 
through Verzy, over a cross-country road. This 
dirt road led us through some of the important 
vineyards in the Champagne district. Wire 
entanglements ran in all directions through the 
vines and supported many hidden trenches. 

Screens of brush and jute stuff hung across and 
above the road as we climbed the hill to the sad 
little village of Verzy. Fifty feet apart, and acting 
as "flies" in a stage setting, these screens effective- 
ly hid the road from view of the Germans across 

[134] 




A TOWN CRIER 



TTHE village drummer, a loyal Frenchman, 
proud of his post, now that his true country- 
men have brought part of the lost provinces. 
Alsace and Lorraine, "back home," is the local 
equivalent of the town crier of our own Colonial 
days. Here he is reading to the assembled and 
delighted townsfolk a bit of good news from the 
advancing French front. 



ON THE ROAD TO RHEIMS 

the valley. Like Beaumont, Verzy had not only 
suffered from shell-fire but also from street and 
house fighting, as the bullet-holes through doors 
and windows, splintered jambs and shutters and 
the honeycombed stucco amply testified. All 
barns and sheds along the roads were marked with 
big numerals indicating the number of men and 
horses which they could accommodate. 

In leaving Verzy we passed a battery of field- 
guns cleverly hidden in a field on the left of the 
road. Unless with the help of another's eyes, 
I would have passed, without a suspicion of its 
existence, the emplacement, surrounded as it was 
with transplanted trees, shrubs and vines. 

The absence for some time of the last two cars 
gave us considerable uneasiness, and on reaching 
the summit of a hill we determined to wait 
for them. 

Many of the battlefields of the earher period of 
the war lay in the valley below us. 

About eight miles across the plain, and showing 
like a dark brown spot against the gray horizon, 
stood one of the noblest and finest examples of 
early Gothic architecture. 

My heart throbbed fast as I first caught sight 
of the world-famous cathedral, and the thought of 

[137] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

the dastardly attempt of the Huns to burn and 
destroy this coronation place of all but four of the 
kings of France made me hot with indignation. 
At this distance the venerable architectural pile 
looked as it had looked for many centuries and I 
kept turning in my mind the questions: "How 
badly is it damaged?" and "Can it be repaired?" 
In less than an hour I shall answer the questions 
for myself. 

Soon on the road behind us appeared two tiny 
specks which proved through our glasses to be the 
delayed cars, and we immediately started on 
towards Rheims. 

Again on the main highway, we found it now 
continuously screened. 

Our chauffeurs had orders to keep the auto- 
mobiles three hundred metres apart in order to 
avoid tempting the German gunners with a group 
of six. As we stopped at the command of one of 
the numerous sentries, we found ourselves in the 
midst of a company of soldiers who were vigor- 
ously digging new trenches for the support of 
the road. 



[138] 



CHAPTER IX 
Rheims and Its Desecrated Cathedral 

4T LAST we are in Rheims, whose importance 
/A in France to-day, great though it is, is 
perhaps no greater in proportion than it 
was back in the time of the Romans. 

We enjoyed an excellent luncheon at the City 
Club, tendered us by Robert Leuthwaite, presi- 
dent, and a few of the members. The thought of 
a big one-hundred-and-eighty-millimetre German 
shell bursting close at hand did not abate our keen 
appetites. One shell would have sufficed to spoil 
the entertainment, and we learned that as many as 
three thousand had fallen upon the city in one day. 

While seated at table, Mr. Leuthwaite described 
the unannounced entrance a few days before of a 
large German shell. It came through the transom 
of a window directly back of where he was sitting 
and crashed through the dining-room floor into 
the cellar. Fortunately it arrived between meals 
and failed to explode when it reached the cellar. 

The conversation at table drifted from war to 
what France planned to do after the war; then to 

[139] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

wines and the great vintages, and then back to 
war again. In describing some of the famous 
vintages of years gone by and the old-time methods 
of curing and bottHng, Colonel Tantot on my 
right told us that on festal occasions, many years 
ago, there was in use the "Jeroboam," a large 
bottle holding four quarts or twice the quantity of 
the "magnum," and that on very grand occasions 
it was not uncommon to open a few "Nebuchad- 
nezzars." These latter bottles contained eight 
quarts of champagne. 

"The crops for 1914 and 191 5 were good ones 
and the wines of those years will probably reach 
you as vintage wines," was Mr. Leuthwaite's 
answer to a question I put to him. 

The 191 6 crop is a failure, it having been im- 
possible to spray and care for the vines. 

The Colonel, who had won the red ribbon and 
had just returned from active service, described 
to those seated near him some of the battles in 
which he had fought. In one battle, in September, 
191 5, he lost all his officers and practically all of 
his men. Everybody about him had been shot 
down, yet he escaped without a scratch. 

Discussing the dogged perseverance of the French 
peasant, he related the following incident: 

[140] 







A CATHEDRAL THAT ESCAPED DESTRUCTION 



/^NE of the most potent reasons why Germany 
holds on so tenaciously to Alsace is because 
of the productiveness of iron ore in the Meurthe 
and Moselle country. Here the cathedral, 
though sadly damaged, miraculously escaped 
utter demolition when a mighty shell, hurtling 
on its errand of destruction, crashed into a wall 
of stone and mortar, and lost the force of its 
power through the impact. Square after square 
of houses lies in ruins. 



RHEIMS AND ITS DESECRATED CATHEDRAL 

"One morning," said he, "as I was shaving, I 
was surprised to see through the window of the 
house I was occupying as headquarters a peasant 
plowing in the field near-by. The shells were con- 
stantly screaming overhead, and as the man was 
liable to be killed, I sent an orderly to warn him 
of his danger and to suggest that he leave his work 
until after the shelling in that sector had ceased. 
On the following morning, while again shaving, I 
saw the man back at his work beginning to plow 
where he had left off the day before. I this time 
ordered him to desist until the fighting was over, 
but it was only by arresting him and placing him 
under guard that, on the third morning, I was able 
to make him leave his work. The peasant was 
much annoyed, explaining that it was necessary 
for him to plow his field; that if he waited until 
the fighting was finished, it would be too late to 
plant his seed and his crop therefore would be a 
failure the following year." 

The Colonel did not attempt to conceal his 
uneasiness concerning our visit to Rheims, and 
explained that the Germans were in the habit of 
shelling the city every few days with their big guns, 
which were constantly kept trained upon the town. 
"If they have not observed your cars entering the 

[143] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

city, then you have the low-hanging clouds to 
thank,'* he remarked as we left the dining-room. 

Of the four hundred members of the City Club 
only six were left in Rheims. We were not 
allowed to linger over our coffee and cigars, for 
there was much of interest to be seen in the city 
and afterwards we were to visit the trenches. 
When we left, the three chefs came from the 
kitchen and expressed their pleasure at our visit 
and wished us Godspeed. 

In going about this old city, I was greatly 
shocked by the ruthless and wanton destruction 
which it had suffered at the hands of the Germans. 
One out of every four houses had been injured and 
one out of every ten houses was entirely destroyed. 

Many of the former beautiful residences were 
but masses of twisted iron, plaster, brick and 
broken tile. 

A deep shell-hole made by a three-hundred-and- 
fifty-millimetre shell in the pavement at the inter- 
section of several streets had completely destroyed 
most of the houses in the neighborhood. Some 
were unroofed, while the side walls of others filled 
the streets. 

The city was occupied by the Germans on Sep- 
tember 5, 1914, and after holding it for seven days 

[144] 




RHEIMS IN RUINS 



TTHE ruins of Rheims, the result of Kultur in 
action. German shells, directed at the noble 
cathedral in the background, wrecked vast areas 
of this, one of the quaintest and loveliest of the 
larger cities of France. Although for weeks the 
gunners of the enemy strove to utterly demolish 
the cathedral, the main part of the magnificent 
structure still stands, and casts the shadow of its 
great glory on the surrounding waste. 



RHEIMS AND ITS DESECRATED CATHEDRAL 

they evacuated on the I2th. It was on the 19th 
of September that they shelled and fired the 
cathedral. 

Of the one hundred and eighteen thousand in- 
habitants before the war, many had been killed 
and wounded, many had taken up their residences 
in southern cities, and at the time of our visit 
there were but twelve thousand left, most of whom 
still lived in the cellars of their homes. 

As we passed the venerable Church of St. Remi, 
which was built in the eleventh, twelfth and thir- 
teenth centuries, we learned that the clock in the 
tower stopped on Sunday afternoon at five thirty- 
five, when the bombardment of the city began, 
although neither the clock nor the tower were 
touched by shell. This church contained many 
beautiful twelfth-century glass windows and some 
historical tapestries. The church had once been 
attached to an important abbey, which for years 
had been used as a hospital. This hospital was 
shelled by the Germans with incendiary bombs 
and destroyed by fire. The patients who were too 
ill to escape through their own efforts were safely 
removed before the roof fell. The building was a 
very old one. In the first-story lobby I saw the 
names of some of the early benefactors, opposite 

[147] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

which were engraved the dates "1487" and "1492." 
Upon their entrance into the city the Germans 
printed and posted notices to the effect that they 
had arrested and locked up in the Prefecture one 
hundred prominent citizens of Rheims (among 
them our host, Robert Leuthwaite), and in case 
any citizen fired on the troops these hostages 
would be marched to the square and shot. *'I 
can scarcely call that week in September, 1914, 
the happiest in my life," dryly remarked Mr. 
Leuthwaite. "I expected at any moment that 
some indignant citizen would take a shot from 
his window at a strolling officer and thus abruptly 
end my plans for the future." 

With painful forebodings I approached the great 
cathedral. I dreaded to see what I had already 
learned — that it was damaged beyond repair. 
From a little distance the exterior damage did not 
seem serious, but on close inspection the real 
results of the abominable crime were laid bare. 
The upper roof had been completely burned off 
but the vaulted stone roof, though pierced here 
and there by gaping shell-holes, remained intact 
and apparently in good condition. 

The five hundred and thirty large statues which 
adorned the three exquisite recessed portals of 

[148] 



RHEIMS AND ITS DESECRATED CATHEDRAL 

the west fa9ade, perhaps the most beautiful struc- 
ture produced in the Middle Ages, have either 
fallen to their destruction or have been burned so 
badly that all traces of features and drapery have 
been effaced. 

The splendid statues in the niches crowning the 
wonderful flying buttresses have been destroyed 
and many of the buttresses ruined by the parapet 
walls falling upon them. The explosion of the 
incendiary shells and the consequent interior fire 
utterly smashed and melted all of the matchless 
thirteenth-century windows. 

While the Germans occupied the city, the 
cathedral was used as a hospital. The chairs and 
other furniture were piled high against the walls 
and the floor was covered deep with straw. When 
the shells exploded in the interior, the straw blazed 
and the thousands of chairs and the priceless carved 
woodwork of the choir burned fiercely. 

In the fiery furnace was consumed all but the 
memory of some of the most noted examples of 
stained glass, wood and stone carving that the 
world contained. 

The west fagade, built in the fourteenth century, 
was the finest part of the building. It had been 
undergoing repairs for a number of years and the 

[149] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

heavy wooden scaffolding around the north tower 
made a consuming fire which destroyed the carved 
moulding, niches and turrets, together with the 
many statues which they held 

The south tower, containing the two famous 
great bells — the one called *^ Charlotte" weighing 
eleven tons — was damaged far less than its sister 
tower. 

The fine tapestries and paintings, among the 
latter the famous ones by Tintoretto and Nicolas 
Poussin, had, thanks to Heaven, been removed to 
a safe place before the invasion. 

A feeling of deep depression possessed me as I 
walked down the nave of this once noble church, 
now desecrated by men who claim the pinnacle of 
culture. In its melancholy ruin it seemed like the 
corpse of a great evangel whose soul had departed. 
Numerous pigeons were wheeling in and out 
through the glassless windows and circling about 
in the remote shadows of the arched stone ceiling 
one hundred and twenty feet above the eye. 

A pure-white feather, like a great snowflake 
swirling in the cold, shifting currents of air, settled 
softly at my feet. "Would to God," I thought, 
"it had dropped from the dove of peace on its way 
to the peoples of a war-mad world." 

[ISO] 




THE MAIMED CATHEDRAL OF RHEIMS 



A X example of architectural exquisiteness which 
'^ fell before the guns of Kultur. Torn by 
German shells, scarred and bleeding, the Ca- 
thedral of Rheims, magnificent heritage of 
Middle Ages artistry, has taken on a new and 
more solemn grandeur. But the splendid statues 
are destroyed or burned beyond recognition, the 
matchless Thirteenth Century windows have been 
melted in the fiery furnace of Hunnish incendiar- 
ism, and the priceless carved woodwork is a mass 
of charred ruins. 



RHEIMS AND ITS DESECRATED CATHEDRAL 

The bronze figure of Joan of Arc sitting astride 
her horse in the square in the front of the cathedral 
has miraculously escaped the shells of each bom- 
bardment. The people beheve that the preserva- 
tion of the statue is an omen of great good and 
that the spirit of the inspired woman who led the 
French armies to victory in the Fifteenth Century 
shall save France from her enemies in the present 
war. 

The Archbishop's Palace, built at the beginning 
of the Sixteenth Century and occupied since that 
time for short periods by the kings of France before 
their coronations, has been completely destroyed. 
It v/as possible to discern only by a portion of 
wall left standing where the royal banqueting 
room, the hall and the library had been. 

In spite of the many storms of bursting shells 
the old hotel on the square opposite the cathedral 
remained intact and was carrying on "business as 
usual.'' However, its exterior plastered walls were 
gashed and plowed by shell fragments and the 
roof tiles smashed in many places. 

Many of the fine old houses which had made 
Rheims a mecca for the antiquarian have been 
destroyed. However, the celebrated House of the 
Musicians, built in the Thirteenth Century, was 

[IS3] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

easily identified in the Rue Tambour by the 
figures of seated musicians carved in reHef on its 
front. It fortunately was not injured. 

Rheims was selected in 1874 ^^ ^^^ of the chief 
defences of the northern approaches to Paris and 
a chain of detached forts was begun in the vicinity. 
The forts, nine in number, formed a circle about 
six miles from the city, occupying a perimeter 
of twenty-two miles. It is therefore easy to see 
the reason for the continued activities in this 
sector since the beginning of the war. 

The old city has been a centre for the wool 
industry from the earliest times and was considered 
the chief wool market of France. Combing, card- 
ing, spinning and weaving of flannels and woolen 
goods have been its chief industries, although the 
manufactures of champagne and machinery, chem- 
icals, soaps and paper were very important. 

The caves of the Piper Heidsieck Company, one 
of the largest manufacturers of champagne in 
Rheims, established as long ago as 1735, were in 
no way harmed by the bombardment, though six 
of the workmen lost their lives in the courtyard 
by the explosion of a single shell a few days 
previous to our visit. 

The caves or galleries which have been hollowed 

[154] 




A BATTLE-SCARRED CHURCH IN ALSACE 



TTHE battle-scarred ruins of the Interior of one 
of the churches in Thann, Alsace. The Prus- 
sian guns have long since proved to be no re- 
specters of persons, things or religious creeds. 



RHEIMS AND ITS DESECRATED CATHEDRAL 

out of the chalk formation are three stories in 
depth, the lowest one forty feet below the street 
level, and in these galleries which wind about 
underground for a distance of eight miles are 
stacked thousands of casks and hundreds of 
thousands of bottles. The side walls glitter and 
glisten from the damp floor to the arched white 
roof as the bottles catch the light of our torches. 

Who could blame the poor citizens for taking 
refuge in these wonderful cellars when the first 
shells began to fall upon the city? Thirty-five 
hundred old men, women and children rushed 
down the rough-hewn steps at the beginning of the 
bombardment and stayed for days in the dark or 
in the meagre light of a few candles, waiting for the 
storm of shells to cease. As time went by and 
it was found impossible to properly feed and care 
for these people, the company appealed to their 
patriotism and urged them to leave. 

"You cannot remain here; you will starve if you 
do," they were told by the managing director of 
the company. "Your sons, your brothers and 
your fathers are fighting for their country in the 
trenches and you are sorely needed to help in a 
thousand ways. Go back to your homes and help 
win the war for France." 

[157] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

But it was all to no purpose; fear supplanted 
reason, and only when the general in charge of the 
troops in the city sent soldiers to expel them did 
these poor people come up into the light of day, 
regain their courage, and assume the duties which, 
ever since, they have so loyally performed. 

It is not difficult to understand the stories of the 
orgies which occurred while the Germans were in 
possession of the city of Rheims, particularly when 
one realizes that the full wine crop for the entire 
district is computed at 300,000 barrels; that the 
cellars described above and many others of smaller 
size were full of wine and that countless bottles 
of the best vintages were to be had for the taking. 



[158] 




DEMOCRACY OF THE TRENCHES 



^OT the least interesting feature of this photo- 
graph shows the democracy of the trenches. 
French colonials from Africa are here fighting for 
France, the mother country, side by side with 
the poilu. And what a use for the garden wall, 
famed in song and fable! 



CHAPTER X 
In the Trenches 

A FINE, drizzling rain was falling as we left 
the cellars and started for the outskirts of 
the town to visit the trenches. "There is 
scarcely a citizen in Rheims to-day who would 
undertake to go to the cross-roads for which we are 
heading/' remarked a member of the club who sat 
with me in the car. Although the city was very 
quiet and there was nothing to indicate immediate 
trouble, he evidently knew from past experience 
that the present peaceful conditions could change 
in a moment. 

The high road-screen hid us completely from the 
view of the Germans, but the danger of our posi- 
tion was quite evident from the long grass growing 
between the cobblestones, an indication that the 
road had been unsafe for travel for some time. 
Keener eyes than mine would have passed un- 
noticed the cleverly concealed emplacement con- 
taining a mighty howitzer and a battery of four 
"75's." "We are very proud of our French soix- 
ante-quinze-millimetre field-gun," smilingly ex- 

[ 161 ] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

claimed my companion as he pointed out the 
battery to me. "Twenty-five shots a minute can 
be fired by a single gun and they have thus far 
done the most effective work in the war. 

"A battery of four of these guns can fire one 
hundred three-inch shells a minute a distance of 
three miles. If properly placed, controlled and 
checked, they can, you understand, do considerable 
damage in a bombardment lasting five hours.'' 
Six officers and eighty men and the use of nearly 
two hundred horses are required to care for and 
support such a battery. 

Each of these eighteen-pound, three-inch shells 
contains four hundred and twenty-five shrapnel 
bullets, and is it not a wonder that in a five-hour 
bombardment in which thirty thousand shells are 
exploded, sending twelve million seven hundred 
and fifty thousand death-dealing bullets in all 
directions, any soldier in the neighborhood of the 
bursting shells lives to describe the battle ? 

The batteries are generally placed from two to 
three miles back of the infantry, and are so care- 
fully hidden that it is almost impossible for the 
enemy airmen to discover them. When it was nec- 
essary to place a battery in an open field, the efl^ect 
of a natural corner of a farm was created by the 

[162] 




THE EYES OF THE FRENCH 7o's 



^ONCEALED in the luxurious foliage of 
ancient trees, these military observers scan 
the lay of the land, watching the movements of 
the enemy, and so direct the fire of the masked 
batteries. Thousands of v^enerable trees, such as 
this one, were ruthlessly destroyed by the 
Germans on their various retreating movements. 



IN THE TRENCHES 

aid of temporary fences, trees, shrubs and vines, and 
the guns perfectly concealed. As there is no smoke 
to betray the location, the flash from the muzzles 
is the principal evidence to hide. This is done by 
firing through screens which, without checking the 
shell, conceal the flames. The batteries fire over 
their own infantry and, by communications given 
by telephone from observation posts in the front, 
are able to drop their shells into the trenches and 
upon the batteries of the enemy beyond. 

Some little two-and-one-half-story brick cottages 
which we are passing have been battered to pieces 
and look miserable and forlorn in their dilapida- 
tion. In the flower and vegetable gardens in front 
and by the sides of the cottages, barbed wire 
twists about in riotous confusion, giving joy to the 
scarlet runner and climbing rose which believe it 
has been put there for their convenience and glory. 

Our automobiles, which had been traveling very 
fast, suddenly turned to the right and came to a 
stop a short way down a road running at right 
angles to the highway. A large screen across this 
road, hanging like a drop-curtain in a theatre, pre- 
vented our further progress. When we had alighted, 
the Colonel warned us not to show ourselves be- 
yond the screen, for the German first-line trenches 

[165] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

were but twelve hundred yards away, and we 
would be in plain sight of the German sharp- 
shooters. With a deal of care and little noise, we 
made our way through a hole in the garden wall 
behind a demoHshed cottage. Regardless of the 
havoc in which the German shells had left the 
place, a few late flowers were blooming, pathet- 
ically recalling the days when the trim little garden 
was filled with color and perfume; the espalier trees 
against the wall were laden with fruit. A broken 
parrot-cage, formerly occupied by the green-coated 
pet of the family, hung from its nail. From the 
rear wall, against which the little tool house had 
been built, a few bricks had been removed at 
intervals of every five feet for the use of sharp- 
shooters. Through the apertures we had a good 
view of the German trenches and of "No Man's 
Land" — that serpentine stretch of land which 
winds Its way up and down, in and out, over four 
hundred miles of country from Switzerland to the 
North Sea, and which is bordered by the German 
and Austrian armies on the one side, and the 
French, English and Belgian armies on the other. 
It is the only land on earth to-day where man 
hesitates to set his foot. 

In the gathering dusk we hurriedly pass through 

[166I 



IN THE TRENCHES 

a half-dozen gardens, in some of which the scythes, 
sickles, rakes and spades are hanging on their pegs 
in orderly array. The upper stories of the houses 
are entirely demolished; from broken windows, 
tattered lace curtains flap despondently in the 
rain like whipped sails on a deserted ship; and 
within the houses is piled a conglomerate mass of 
furniture, bedding and debris. A door creaks on 
its rusty hinges and in the cold rising wind the 
broken shutters rattle and slam. 

In the last garden we come upon the beginning 
of one of the communicating trenches and dropping 
into it follow a zigzag course towards the front. 
On account of the porous soil, the trenches in this 
sector are in splendid condition. Though it had 
rained for several days, the trenches are not muddy. 
They are clean and well drained. Hanging from 
over the top as from a continuous window-box are 
innumerable vines and grasses, brightened here 
and there by the flaming red poppy and the small 
purple aster. I pick a few of the blossoms and 
press them in my notebook as I pass along. 

From a machine-gun emplacement about fifteen 
hundred feet from the German first-line trench, 
we cautiously surveyed their position through our 
glasses. The long wavering line of light-colored 

[167] 



JUST BEHIND THE FRONT IN FRANCE 

earth easily marked the parapet of the enemy's 
trenches, but the absence of the sound or the sight 
of man or beast made it most difficult to believe 
that their trenches were occupied. 

As there had been no serious activity in this 
sector for some time, "No Man's Land," by the 
help of the recent rains, had developed into a 
beautiful garden-meadow — innumerable red pop- 
pies sprinkhng it as with drops of blood. 

Darkness enveloped us as we left the trenches 
and began our chilly ride back to Chalons. The 
red lanterns of the sentries stopped us at frequent 
intervals but we were quickly allowed to proceed 
and in due time arrived at our destination hardly 
aware of our cold and hunger, so absorbed were 
we in the thoughts and memories of our amazing 
and unique journey. 

We had comp to the end. This was our last day 
in the war zone. 

We had heard this war likened to a gladiatorial 
combat. But in ancient days the last farewell of 
the gladiator was, "We who are about to die 
salute thee!" 

The France we were leaving, a transformed 
France which, with quickened vision and new 

[i68] 




"NO MAN'S LAND" THAT WAS 



"■NJO MAN'S LAND" that was, French soil 
once more — the Marne, where was fought 
the great battle which turned the Huns definite- 
ly back from the very gates of Paris. Thou- 
sands of lives were spent to recover for France 
these few yards of shell-torn waste and sorry 
earth. A regiment of French infantry is making 
its way through ruined trenches to their own new 
first-line trenches in front of the foe. 



IN THE TRENCHES 

understanding, we had learned to love anew, was, 
we now knew, no mere gladiator. 

Rather, out of the ashes of invading ruin and 
colossal adversity, she comes reborn, a Phoenix 
among the nations. 

Even as we, departing, saw France, so will the 
whole world soon behold her — transfigured, glori- 
fied, unconquerable, deathless. Indeed, she lives 
because she cannot die. 

Is it any wonder that, as the tears welled in our 
eyes, from our hearts came with one voice our 
parting words, "VIVE la France — la belle France !' ' 



THE END 



[171] 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: ju|yj 2001 

PreservationTechnologies 

A WORLD LEADER IN PAPER PRESERVATION 

111 Ttwmson ParV Drive 
Cranberrv Townshio. PA 16066 




Publje 



cU; FraXiCs 




MdesDANESFIUHCIIISES 

ROUGE FRANCAISE 



ar-h 



;:*fe 







+ 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




007 693 326 1 



